


Cap's Coffee

by CharlieBradbury



Series: Lovers and Caffeine-Fiends [1]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, F/M, M/M, This plot bunny grew into a plot whale, also i ship all the things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieBradbury/pseuds/CharlieBradbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark's gotten maybe three hours of sleep in as many days.  So when the stunning blond muscle-head behind the counter gives him some lip for his rude behavior, he swears he'll blacklist that hokey cafe and put him out of business.</p><p>Then he tastes his latte, and falls in love.  And comes back to badger the gorgeous barista into paying attention to him.  Poor Steve just wants Tony to stop flirting outrageously with him in front of the customers, that can't be good for business, no matter what Natasha says.</p><p>And then Loki shows up and makes everything terrible, per usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patience and Impatience

Tony Stark is not a patient man.

Not when he’s sitting in yet another board meeting, listening to all the members arguing about what’s right for his corporation. He knows that maybe 84 percent of what’s being said is hiding behind a buffer of ego fluffing. His impatience is only worsened by the fact that he’s gotten maybe three hours of sleep in as many days.  
Finally it seems they’re wrapping up. He puts his phone away, standing up smoothly. He would never let these vultures know just how tired he was, how his every muscle wanted nothing more than to just give in and let go. He looks down at the plush carpet, thinking vaguely that it looks comfortable from up here. Tony just grabs his disposable coffee cup, draining the last few drops desperately before gathering his belongings and grinning enthusiastically at the old farts nodding at him as they exit the sharply decorated meeting room.

Now he just has to spend a few hours making his rounds at the facilities in town, check in on operations there, then he can return to his spacious apartment and-at long last-sleep. He barely sees the building around him as he descends to the parking garage. Tony nearly drops his keys from his shaking hands as he clicks the remote to unlock and start the car. He stops for a moment. Just a moment, sitting in the car now somehow with his hands grasping the smooth leather of the steering wheel limply.

“Shit,” he breathes out weakly. The million and one things he has running around in his head are merging together into one stressful useless lump of names, addresses, times, phone numbers, stock percentages, profit margins-he jerks awake.

“Coffee,” he mumbles determinedly. He’s not usually on this side of town but there has to be a Starbucks nearby. This is downtown after all. Can’t have so many office workers without a steady supply of caffeine nearby. “Gotta be a law against it,” he groans, pulling out of the parking space carefully.  
——  
Steve Rogers is not an impatient man.

He takes time with every single person he meets, and refuses to rush things for the sake of expedition. It took him almost ten years to save up for his coffee shop, to find the perfect place and obtain the lease. And now that he’s finally living his dream he’s made sure to keep taking his time and enjoy his life. And it seems that his way of going about his business is doing him well; he’s a few months away from turning a profit this year, which for a new business’s second year is astonishing. He’s kept things small, only hiring one part time worker for the mornings and occasional Saturday afternoons. He’s closed Sundays so he can have time to do all his paperwork and record all his numbers; go for a walk down to the river or jog around the lakes.

Steve’s only employee isn’t one that required a lot of repeating when it came to learning her job. She remembered every single recipe the first time, is a whiz with customers despite refusing to smile at them, and takes little extra effort not to get stressed out when they’re slammed in the morning and Steve still insists on making all the drinks with the same care and detail. All of his regular customers are patient though, chatting with either him or Natasha, willing to wait out the extra minute or so that it takes to get their drink perfect. Seeing the way people’s faces light up when they take that first sip was all Steve needed to remind himself that slow and steady definitely the way to go.

“Oh c’mon!” one of the customers whines at the college student behind the counter. Natasha looks at him disinterestedly. He’s not a regular, he just happened to wander in for a cappuccino with two girls chattering with him. “One little smile? A pretty girl like you shouldn’t look so sad.”

“Here’s your change sir,” she says evenly, handing him a bill and some change. “Your drink will be ready at the end of the counter.” She places some emphasis on ‘end’ and Steve realizes it’s time for him to help her out.

“I’ll go get it if you give me a smile!” he plies. Steve is about to step over and ask him some obtuse question about his drink when Natasha speaks up.

“Sir, I can’t smile. I was in an accident as an infant, and due to the damage done to my facial muscles it is literally impossible for me to smile. I appreciate you reminding of this fact with your cringing attempts to flirt.” Steve continues making the guy’s drink with the most speed he will allow, shaking his head at how easily that lie rolled off of Natasha’s tongue.

“Geeze, Chase, what a jerk!” a younger girl says next to him, glaring at him from under a frog shaped hat. She punches him lightly in the side. He mumbles a quiet apology as he shuffles down the line. Natasha glances at Steve for a moment, her face neutral except for the slight creases at the corners of her mouth. As close to a smile as she comes most days. He flashes a full smile of his own at her.

“Sorry about him,” a taller blond girl says with an apologetic grin, a light blush on her cheeks. “There’s a reason we call him ‘Talkback.’” She places her order quickly and politely, and Steve turns his attention back to the drinks.

The bell above the entrance tinkles shortly as a man walks through hurriedly. Steve barely has time to take in his sharp black and gray suit, the huge aviators hiding his eyes and adding curves to an otherwise angled face and goatee. He immediately comes to stand behind the customers that have already placed their order. Steve ducks down to get vanilla syrup out from under the counter, and when he straightens the man is still standing at the back of the wrong line. Everyone else has placed their orders except for him. Steve looks him over between blending an iced lemonade for the girl with the frog hat. He seems like he’s sagging under a tremendous weight, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and what’s visible of his brow is wrinkled. As Steve puts an extra quarter of lemon in the girl’s drink-she’d been eyeing the jar of lemons sitting on the counter hungrily-and hands it to her she thanks him giddily. “Sir,” he says. No reaction. “Excuse me, sir?” Still nothing. He prepares the iced mocha with care and hands it to the other girl and then tries again, since the man is now standing in front of him.

He doesn’t even look at the chalkboard listing the different drinks as he says, “The biggest latte you’ve got. How much?”

Steve smiles politely as he explains, “You should place your order down there, sir.” He points helpfully to his right, where Natasha stands looking blank as always. “I’ll start on that latte though. Did you want whole milk, two percent, or soy?”

Tony smiles briefly at the redhead as she takes his money and gives him his change with a polite greeting. “Ah, it really couldn’t matter less. Whatever’s closest to your hand at the moment,” he answers rapidly, stuffing the two dollars and change in the tip jar. Exactly when would he need such a tiny amount of money?

Steve can feel his jaw twitch at the blatant rudeness in the man’s tone. Natasha notices it, but she notices everything. “Okay, any flavor?” he asks, pouring the milk into the steamer cup.

“Uh, no. Just a plain old latte, snappy as you like.”

“All right. How’s your day going?” Steve asks, trying to find some reason not to get irritated.

Tony on the other hand, has irritation dripping from his voice when he replies, “Well that’s not any of your business is it, Mr. Barista?” Tony could barely see anything in the building since it was glaring daylight outside and the high walls of the place were only lit by the huge windows along one wall. Not that he was about to take off his sunglasses, he could barely summon the energy to stand right now, much less raise his hand to his face.

Steve bites his tongue before he angrily asks what this guy’s deal is, and instead gets to work silently on what will be the best damn latte he has ever made. If this guys wants to be such a jerk well then he’ll just have to deal with the usual wait as ‘Mr. Barista’ does his job like he always has and always will. He doesn’t even think to make the man wait longer than normal, just focuses on making the drink perfect.

His hands balled into fists in his pockets, Tony wonders how hard it would be to just buy this place and employ someone who knows how to make coffee with some sense of urgency. His funds were looking great this quarter but next quarter was their usual dip in profit so he had to keep a close watch on everything happening unless he wanted his shareholders to come crying. He never has to wait this long at Starbucks, what the hell was this kid doing back there?! Frustration fueling him, he takes a hand out of his pocket to glare at his watch, only to realize with his sunglasses on he can’t make out the digital numbers. With a huff he rips them off his face and finds out that his driving around delirious from sleep deprivation trying to find a coffee shop of some kind has made him almost fifteen minutes late. Tony couldn’t care less about being on time. But that did mean that he’d have to wait another fifteen minutes before he would get to return to his long lost love; his bed.

“How long does it take to make a damn latte, kid?” he barks, just as his eyes fly up to meet the barista’s. Lips like that should not be legal, he thinks as he drinks in the other man’s appearance. “Er-or, not-kid,” he mumbles in astonishment. That jaw could cut glass, his mouth is full and drawn into a sour line that’s straining in a way that suggests he doesn’t scowl very much. The hand that is offering Tony his drink is big and meaty, but it holds the plain cardboard cup delicately. The muscles on his arms and shoulders make Tony wish desperately that he could see the rest of him, instead of the counter and various machines that blocked his body from view.

“Sir, I’m sorry you’re in such a hurry but the cursing is completely unnecessary,” he says roughly. “I take a lot of pride in making every single drink special for each and every customer. And I daresay that people find the effort that I put into my work worth the wait. Please, enjoy your latte. And learn how to be less rude to undeserving people before you come back.”

Tony flicks his eyes away from the man’s gorgeously angry face to the girl at the counter, who’s eyebrows have quirked up slightly. He looks back to find the expression on the guy’s face is almost painful to see now, dark blue eyes glaring at him. Was he being that rude? He’s so tired he can barely remember walking in the cafe. Then his momentary embarrassment fades quickly into fury. “You know, I thought maybe robot voice over there was the worst shitty café worker I’ve ever seen, but you just took that trophy. All I wanted was a latte not a lecture, champ. If you treat every customer this way I’d be surprised if you last longer than a month around here.”

“No sir, I only treat people the way they treat me. If you find a problem with my behavior you should try paying attention to how you treat people yourself. Sir,” the taller man grates out, still holding the drink in his huge hand.

“Oh please-you do not get to judge me. I could buy this place in a heartbeat, don’t tempt me.” Tony grabs the drink and storms out to where his car is parked illegally in front of a bus stop. His blood thudding painfully in his head, he jumps in and slams the door. Putting the latte in the cup holder, he tears off down the street. Well, at least that exchange had invigorated him somewhat. He’d make sure that everyone he knew or employed would blacklist that place, he’d put that asshole out of a job soon enough. Giving an aggravated shout, he screeches to a stop at a red light. Tony draws in a few deep breaths, then stares down at the hard-fought-for latte. Might as well try it before declaiming it as tripe.  
——  
Natasha wipes down the counter methodically as Steve is crouched on the floor. With his head hanging in his hands, he bemoans his regret. “Oh God, did I really just do that?”

“Yes, I believe you did,” she responds. None of the shock she feels shows in her voice. She’s seen the store get insanely busy, she’s seen people gripe and grumble as they wait for their drink, she’s seen a drunkard wander in and barf on the counter, but her boss has never lost his temper like that. “To be fair, he had it coming.”

“No, nobody deserves to be disrespected like that!” he wails pitiably.

“He did,” she assures him impassively. “That was Tony Stark, of Stark Industries. He used to be a weapons’ manufacturer and then he just suddenly changed direction and put almost a thousand people out of work. My parents included. That’s why I’m working as much as I can while I’m in school.”

“That’s awful.” Steve looks up at her. “Guess he really could buy this place huh?” She doesn’t answer, focusing on the counter-tops. “He just really got under my skin. I don’t even know how. I’ve never gotten that angry with a customer.”

“I know. I was worried you would come to blows,” she says offhandedly. “What do you need me to do before I leave for class?”

Steve smiles up at her. She knows good and well what needs to be done, she’s asking so he can have something to focus on besides his remorse. He straightens up with a groan, popping his spine. Oh well, he thinks with a sad grin. It’s not like I can go back in time and fix it. Hope he comes back.  
——

The first sip was almost too good to be true. The milk had obviously been steamed to exactly the right temperature; it didn’t taste scalded or under-heated. The espresso was perfect, not too overpowering but still a kick in the mouth. Better than anything the hipsters at Starbucks slung at him. Hell, this might be the best coffee he’d ever consumed. What do you know, the chump knows what he’s doing. After opening the plastic lid to sip at the foam, Tony bursts into laughter. That gorgeous bastard of a barista had taken the time to do some drawings in the foam. A triangle in the middle with spiraling swirls surrounding and going through it.  
Cars behind him honked angrily as he sat in the driver’s seat, laughing helplessly until tears sprouted from his eyes. He’d blame the sleep dep for the tears later. Clearly, he’d have to go back. If only to aggravate the piss out of that guy.  
 


	2. Spider and Trickster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony asks Clint for help. Loki makes an appearance. Both Tony and Steve pine and refuse to acknowledge that yes indeed they are pining.

Tony doesn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Mostly because he slept for ten hours following the inspections at his factories. Then he was up again for another forty-eight hours. This is not going to end well, he decides. As much as he hates it, he’s going to have to ask for help. He lounges on his leather sofa (almost four days since the incident at the Incredibly Talented Gorgeous Bastard Cafe) surrounded by pages and pages of notes, reminders, account summaries, when he hears his doorbell ring. Tony sits straight up, grabbing for his remote. He changes the channel to his surveillance camera at the door to his apartment. He almost laughs from relief once he realizes who it is.

A scramble to the door later and one of the smartest men he’s ever had the pleasure to work with stands before him. “Hawkeye Barton, you’re my hero,” he greets sweetly as he leans against the door frame.

“Yeah, you said that when I made Potts take your account and look where that landed you,” the other man responds with a wry grin.

“Heartbroken in a limo in Vegas drowning my sorrows in a sea of silicone tits. Come in, don’t want the neighbors to see me with my gigolo.” Clint snorts as Tony leans out of the doorway, whipping his head around comically to make sure they aren’t seen. Not that he has any neighbors on this floor or the one under it.

“Stark if I were a whore even you wouldn’t be able to afford me. I’m way too pricey,” Clint snarks as he sinks down into one of the matching leather arm chairs. “What’s all that mess?” He indicates the piles of paper on the sofa.

“That is why you are my hero at the moment. I need a new assistant. I thought I could do all of this shit myself, but obviously I always underestimated how much work Pep-Ms. Potts actually did.” Tony only stumbles over her name for a millisecond but Clint hears it. He doesn’t acknowledge it.

“So you want…wait are you asking me to be your assistant? I mean you turned me down for a redhead with some nice legs last year, and that hurt Tony!” Clint dramatizes, hand over his heart.

“Yes dear, but now I’ve realized good looks aren’t all I should be looking for in a coworker. Which is great for you, otherwise you would be so unemployed.” Tony can almost sigh from happiness. He’d forgotten how relaxing it is to have someone to banter with while struggling with the daily grind. “I don’t have any time for sleep, barely any for bathing, and even less for eating. I cannot afford to let this body go to waste. Most of the ladies and some of the men would call it a federal crime. And the only people I’ve talked to recently are those octogenarians posing as my board members and some annoyingly hot barista who chewed me out and makes the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

Clint sits upright reaching for one of the portfolios on the table. “Kinky. As it happens I lost my last client because he’s a dumbass who doesn’t realize he’s going to run his company into the ground soon. It’ll be so refreshing to work with a group that has everything figured out, no failing or sudden changes…” His friend just rolls his eyes at the sarcasm. “Huh. You-” he flips through the papers in confused amazement. “Have you actually kept Stark Industries afloat all by yourself for the past six months?”

Tony slumps back down on his spot on the sofa. “By the skin of my teeth. Has it been six months since I took it from Obie? Hadn’t realized.”

Pausing his incredulous flipping for a moment, Clint looks at Tony. Actually looks at him. He looks thinner; the obnoxious tee shirts he likes to wear around the apartment are usually tighter. The whites of his eyes are red, his pupils are painfully huge. The bags under his eyes could carry a Tony Stark size New York shopping spree-or had he even been spending money like he used to? Back when he had no responsibilities and he let his deceased father’s best friend run his company. Before he realized how dirty it was being run and had to almost ruin it to attempt to restore it to what it once was. Tony still has his savings, no doubt, but the corporation was making so much less money that it had.

“Tony…” he starts softly. The other doesn’t respond immediately, jotting something down on his tablet. After a few seconds his tired eyes flick up to Clint’s.

“Clint?” he replies dramatically.

“I’ll be your assistant but never your gigolo,” Clint whispers with the straightest face he could manage.

Tony’s lips quirk up into an amused grin for half a second before falling back into a straight line. “If memory serves, you just need a little tequila to jump in bed with me.” Clint laughs at this, tossing a pillow at him before joining him in the avalanche of paperwork.  
——  
Steve is agitated, Natasha can see. He’s just as friendly and beaming as usual when there are people to serve. But once they leave, his smile falters and his shoulders slump a fraction. He looks at the milk steaming cup listlessly before moving onto his many duties. She resists the faint urge to roll her eyes at his obvious melodramatic antics. Well, they’re obvious to her but she’s always been able to read people exceptionally accurately. “Steve I hope you’re not pining after Tony Stark,” she begins flatly. From where he’s refilling the pump bottle of chocolate syrup, he freezes and creases his brows in confusion. “Not that I have any problems with alternative sexualities, having had a few experiences myself. And I have heard that the self-proclaimed genius billionaire playboy philanthropist does ‘swing for both teams’ as it were-” By now Steve even with all his naivety has caught her drift, and is gaping at her. “-I really wouldn’t suggest pursuing anything with him. He treats his lovers like employees, and you don’t seem like the ‘dine and dash’ kind of person.”

“No-what-Natasha what are you-oh!” he stutters until he realizes he’s overfilled the bottle of syrup and it’s now running all over his hands and the counter by the sink. The redhead cracks a rather impressive smile at his flailing as he frantically tries to scoop the extra syrup into the sink, succeeding in covering himself further in the goop. “Oh cripes, what a mess!” he mumbles.

The bell jingles cheerfully as a thin man strides in, familiarity written all over his manners. His voice drips out in a bemused chuckle as he watches Steve struggling to contain the mess he’d made. “Need some help back there, Cap?” he asks smoothly.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’d need a hairnet and I’m even more sure you’d hate that, so no thanks!” Steve retorts, washing the sticky stuff off his hands.

“How are you Loki? You haven’t been here in a while.” Natasha’s voice has something akin to warmth in it, but the older man knows it’s the warmth of hatred and not affection. Even though he’s been coming here routinely since the store opened.

“Ah yes, one of my business ventures fell through. My funds have needed some reordering, had to cut out some enjoyable extra spending regrettably.” He eyes Steve unabashedly as he bends down to replace the large container of syrup. As he turns to put the smaller bottle back on the counter, Loki drops his gaze to Natasha. She is doing her best not to glare at him, he can tell from the almost-imperceptible twitch in her eye. “I have missed catching up with my two favorite people in the cities, I apologize! How go your studies, little spider?”

She comes as close to losing her control as she’s been in years when he uses the nickname on her. And how dare he eye up Steve like that? He’s much too good for some sleaze with an obvious betting problem. But if nothing else, she is a professional. “They’re going as expected of course. No gamble in that.” She feels a great deal of satisfaction in the way Loki’s smile becomes just a touch tighter. “Will you be having the usual, or is your brother thirsty this morning as well?”

Without missing a beat he answers, “Considering all the stomping around and singing I heard in the hallway late last night, he’ll need some help greeting the day.”

Steve chuckles lightly as he begins getting Loki’s order ready. “I really wish he’d stop going to those frat bars. Someday he’s going to kill some kid who’s trying to drink him under the table.”

“You know how he is,” Loki heaves a great sigh and gives Steve a significant glance. “Just has to go and challenge anyone who’ll stand still long enough. He often wishes to have you join him; he believes you would be great fun on one of his drinking adventures. If you’re lucky he’ll take you to one of his favorite buffets first and challenge you there.” Steve just laughs good-naturedly. Loki loves that about him, how absurdly happy he is all the time. Sometimes he wonders if it wouldn’t be worth it to pursue the kindhearted man seriously. But then he remembers that he’d never be happy with someone so honest and good and turns back to his dark thoughts without resistance.

After Loki pays, Natasha goes to help Steve prepare the mocha with no whip and an extra shot of espresso and the take-away jug of Cap’s Dark Forest blend, no sugar or cream on the side. Her sharp eyes never leave Loki for too long. She knows he has less than pure desires for Steve and she’s heard in bars where Loki is no longer wanted that he tends to find the most innocent people to take advantage of and leave them in the gutter. She refuses to allow that to happen to the nicest person she’s ever met. Natasha would rather die than see someone as rare and special as Steve go through something so jading.

“Here you are,” she says coldly as she places the jug in a sturdy paper bag. Loki accepts from her with smiling gratitude. Steve hands him his drink at the other end of the counter. Loki lingers a few seconds too long when accepting the cup from him. Forcibly, she tells him, “Have a great day, trickster.”

He looks back at her, anger rising in his face. “You too, little spider,” he returns, no venom in his smooth voice.

After Loki leaves, Steve gives her a confused look. “Trickster?”

“Loki, Norse god. Known for a silver tongue and deceitful if very clever ways of dealing with people. Ended up bound and tortured for all eternity.”

“Ah! You know, I never made that connection until now.” She almost laughs at that.

The rest of the morning passes by quickly enough. There are a couple more rushes, but then it’s 11 AM and Natasha has to go to class. Steve waves her off, and sets about sweeping the dining area. He pauses for a moment to look out at the gray clouds gathering outside. He thinks about how happy he is. About how his dream has come true. No more skeletons in the closet. True, his social life is limited, but he’s mostly okay with sacrificing that for the stability he has.  
He has his own business, he’s his own boss, and his only coworker is a wonderful person who does her job well and doesn’t complicate things. Well, except for that random comment this morning. Why would he be attracted to someone he’s only met once, and during that one time meeting, he got into an argument with him! Where was Natasha getting this ridiculous idea, he just wanted a chance to make it up to the guy. He was obviously dealing with a lot of stuff, Steve had no right to just go off on—

For an instant he thinks he sees a familiar head of dark brown, almost black hair, perfectly styled to look like he just rolled out of bed. Those tired light blue eyes that just burned with indignity pleading with him. That defined nose, like a precursor to the sharp lips and sharper tongue.

He grips the handle of the broom so tightly the plastic cracks and splinters. His heart’s thudding so loudly in his ears it feels like he’s right next to a speaker with the bass turned all the way up.

A bus swerves around the corner loudly and the spell’s broken. Steve blinks rapidly, and realizes he was just staring a poster of Tony Stark, asking for a moment of your time to donate to the March of Dimes on their website. He loosens his grip on the broom, huffing sad laughter through his nose. Natasha was going to make a wonderful psychiatrist someday. Or politician business entrepreneur, whatever she’s majoring in these days. Steve is absolutely pining for Tony Stark.

As Tony Stark steps up to Cap’s Coffee (it had to be the hokiest name he’d ever laid eyes on, he couldn’t believe he didn’t notice that his first time in) he has a similar revelation as he watches Steve stare out the window longingly. There’s a light blush on the blond’s cheeks and neck. Tony simply stands there outside of the small shop, watching the way the man inside clutching the broom looks on something with what can only be described as desperation. He doesn’t have time to wonder or get jealous of what he’s staring at because the other man shakes himself out of his trance suddenly and resumes sweeping.

“What, are they closed or something? I wanted to see this guy you were talking about,” Clint asks behind him, momentarily forgotten.

Tony coughs around the frog in his throat. “Ah, no. They’re open. Let’s uh, yeah.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't really intended for this chapter to happen. I wanted to jump straight into their next meeting, but then character development happened. Thanks for all the kudos and comments! <3


	3. Dry and Wet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony spend some time together. Tony makes an ass of himself. No one is surprised, least of all Tony.

It had somehow become a pattern. Tony would come in-sometimes with one coworker or another, always one or both of the same two guys-and stay for too long, pestering Steve in between customers. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad. Some days he would just bug the blond into telling him about himself, or Tony would just go on and on about how important he is. Those days aren’t so bad, and Steve would get through them without losing his cool or asking the business man what his problem is. But the other days, the more often days, they’re more grating than Steve had ever experienced.

One good day, Steve has to bite down laughter as Tony walks calmly in out of the rain. He’s the only customer right now, due to the downpour. “Oh Tony, didn’t you grab an umbrella?”

Tony looks down at his hands watching the water drip off of them. “Well, it wasn’t raining badly when I left home so I thought I’d make it. Obviously mother nature is a rude bit-“

“Language,” Steve admonishes sharply. “Come in the back, don’t want you dripping everywhere.” Tony’s eyebrow quirks up at the command.

“Not like there are any witty redheads around to hear me and lose their virgin ears,” he murmurs. From behind the counter, the spacious dining room seems even larger. He takes in all the machinery and supplies sitting around, each in its place and clean as a whistle. Cap-who’s name is not Cap or any derivative but is actually squeaky clean Steve-motions him towards the slim doorway to the unseen back of the kitchen. It’s a tight squeeze for the broad shouldered Steve. Tony can’t help but feel slightly dwarfed while stuck in a small space following the smooth jersey covered back of someone a couple inches taller than him. “Did you send Natasha home early?” he asks, to fill the silence.

“Here,” Steve offers, pulling up a metal chair with very little cushioning next to the oven. He holds out one massive hand. “Jacket.” Tony resists a grin as he takes it off, wondering if Cap’s used to giving people orders. “Yeah I did, you’re the only person who’s come in for an hour. Everyone else is smart enough to stay in out of the rain.” He retreats to the tiny office, where he pulls out a huge towel with red and white stripes and a hanger.

He offers the towel to the soaked man, who’s unbuttoning his dress shirt. Steve’s gaze flies up to Tony’s face, who rolls his eyes. “I have an undershirt, this one’s drenched too.”

“Oh, of course.” The blond man reaches up, placing the jacket on the hanger then on the wire racks above them. It goes right next to the oven, dripping quietly on the floor. He finds another hanger, placing the dress shirt next to the jacket.

Tony sits down on the chair with the towel wrapped around him. “Don’t worry, the pants will stay on. I don’t want Natasha to have to kick my ass for giving her boss a heart attack.”

Gulping down some air to fight the heat rushing to his face, Steve defends himself earnestly. “Hey, I’ve seen people without their pants on. You just-you surprised me is all.” He tries to lean nonchalantly against a steel table, but its wheels squeak slightly and move it back an inch. He doesn’t fall, just startles a bit. Thankfully, Tony’s been drying his hair with the towel over his face and saw nothing.

“Oh, what people? Bathing suits don’t count Cap,” Tony asks once he’s done scrubbing at his head. His normally perfectly styled hair is sticking up in odd places and his face is a little red.

Steve smirks at him, “People I’ve had sex with, thank you. Why does everyone assume I’m such a prude? Just because I don’t like talking about…” he gestures loosely, “…those things in public.”

Tony grins into the comfy towel, the fluff and the warmth of the oven drying him quickly. “Well, that’s just how people are. They’ll assume things until you give them reasons not to. So, just out of curiosity and for the sake of getting to know each other better, who’d you lose your V-card to?”

Scrubbing at his face, Steve moans, “Tony, I just said-“

“Yeah but we’re not exactly in public are we?” Tony shoots back quickly. There’s determination in his watery blue eyes, in the way his jaw is set. Steve has to look away after a few moments; it’s weirdly endearing to see this jokester so serious. The rain rushes down loudly outside.

“I…I had a girlfriend, at college,” he says softly. “She was perfect. Beautiful, smart, driven, she was going to make the world a better place if it killed her. I loved her for that. But then,” his eyes stare at the floor as if he could see her there, and the nostalgia turned to sorrow. “It almost did kill her and she wouldn’t let me help her. And then she left me.”

Suddenly, Tony’s on his feet grabbing at the shirt and jacket. “I am an absolutely shitty person.”

The blond tries to slow him down as he wrestles the still damp shirt back on. “No, wait a minute-“

One slightly warm sleeve is on, the other is still fighting him. “I want you to know that, and I shouldn’t have asked you that, I had no idea-“

“Tony, stop!” Steve nearly shouts as he grips Tony’s shoulders. He doesn’t bother to fight at all, it’d be no use against someone so much stronger than himself. Especially with his arms tangled in the jacket behind him, his spine straightening as tingles shoot up and down. “You’re right, you had no idea. You were just asking your usual baloney questions. If I didn’t want to tell you about her I wouldn’t have.” Steve’s vice grip on his shoulders lets up a little. “I mean, it was her choice, her whole life was her choice. And I’m thankful that I got to be a part of it for a while. I always will be.” In the quiet that follows, Steve realizes how closely they’re standing and how Tony’s arms are trapped behind him. He feels the urge to tug him closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body and maybe-he lets go, taking a step back. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve remained celibate after we broke up. That was almost ten years ago. It’s old news now. I’ll go make you a drink, it’ll warm you up.”

Taking his jacket back off, Tony flicks through his options mentally. He could still take off, explaining that he had work at home to do which was a total lie. Once Clint had been brought up to speed on everything, he’d taken over management of all of the major accounts, only asking Tony’s opinions occasionally or getting him to help dig through mountains of forms. Even the decisions he made without consulting Tony had been made perfectly, everything running on target. He could just lie, he had no qualms about that. But then, what if he stays? He can just eat his words, apologize. It’d been a while since he’d apologized to someone.

Once Steve’s made the latte and brought it back to him, Tony’s made up his mind. “I was in ninth year, at a private school in New York,” he begins, taking the drink in his hand as the other man takes his place back at the table with his arms crossed thoughtfully. “And-mind you there weren’t any girls in school so us being the horny teen boys we were we’d find a way to relieve stress. With each other.” Tony looks up at him to find no disgust or aversion in his expression, and takes it as a good sign. “Well I had thought that I was entirely against all that nonsense until one night someone smuggled in some pot and I learned otherwise. After that I was pretty much the school bicycle. But I was usually safe about it,” he admits with a roll of his shoulders. “In closing, I’m uh, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he finishes lowly.

“You didn’t,” Steve says warmly with a shake of his head. “I uh, I mean. Tony I-“ The familiar jingle of the bell interrupts him, and he’s automatically back into perfectly friendly barista mode. “Be back in a few minutes,” he says quietly as he leaves. Tony watches him go, wondering what Steve would think if he knew that he’s only the second person Tony’s told about that.

——

One bad day Tony comes in from the blazing heat of a summer afternoon, dripping sweat. Steve finds it highly amusing that someone so specific about his hygiene would be stuck walking down the street in the heat. “Usual, Tony?”

“Hell no, have you stuck your nose out there today?” He grabs at some napkins to scrub at his forehead, taking his sunglasses off. Steve feels that now familiar twist in his stomach when Tony locks eyes with him for a couple of seconds. He quickly glances around but the only other customers are an older couple in the nook around the corner, well out of earshot. “It’s hotter than your fantastic six pack out there.” Wow, is he glad they’re way over there.

Steve shakes his head at him. “Like you have any idea what my stomach looks like.”

“I can imagine, but that apron isn’t doing you any favors y’know.” He grabs a double chocolate chip cookie from a plate next to the register, unwraps the plastic from it and takes a small nibble of it. He leans his elbows on the counter, looking up at Steve with mischief glinting in his eyes. “Good thing I have a very vivid imagination.” His tongue darts out before he takes another bite.

Pushing any unnecessary thoughts from his mind, Steve just sighs at him. “Are you just going to be inappropriate with the baked goods or are you going to order something to drink?”

Tony angles his head coyly, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Why, Cap, how does one ‘be inappropriate with baked goods’ exactly?” He purses his lips excessively as he munches on the cookie.

Steve stares him down, willing his pulse to slow down. When his disdainful glare has no effect-does it ever-he moves away from the register. “So an iced latte then? I think it’s a lot better with a little caramel. The latte’s kind of bland cold if you ask me.”

Tony smiles victoriously as he notices the redness dancing on the other man’s cheeks. “Yeah sounds great. Just put it in a giant bucket, I’ll need it for the rest of the day.” He finishes the cookie quickly, the dessert has served its purpose. Who knew baked goods can be successfully used to flirt with someone? He turned that thought around in his mind as Steve blended the ice for the drink. “Say, have you ever heard of those sushi bars where you can eat right off of the bodies of beautiful young women?”

“Uh, yeah I guess. Like in movies.” Steve can’t hide his discomfort at this topic of conversation.

“Well get this, what if you did that, but instead of sushi you used cookies, and you were the beautiful naked woman?!” Tony suggests excitedly.

The barista almost drops the cup he’s pouring the finished drink into. “Tony!”

“No really, you’d make a killing! I mean-with what I can only imagine are washboard abs and pecs the size of dinner plates under that shirt, you’d have a schedule book filled for the rest of your life.” Ah there it is, that full fledged blush. It even turns his ears red; Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. “Natasha can be your manager, she’d be set for life. And she would terrify away anyone who’d be tempted to drug you and steal you away. Would I get a discount though, since I gave you this great lucrative business plan? I’d be your biggest client.”

“Tony how in the world did you come up with that?!” Steve smacks the cup down on the counter in agitation, a little of the drink coming out from the straw hole.

The brunet shrugs. “My mind wanders. It wanders around you a lot actually.” Steve stops punching things into the register for a second, glaring at him in confusion. Tony just returns the look evenly, as if daring him to do something. If only he could figure out what.

“You would be the first one to drug and kidnap me. You’re banned from my nude bakery,” the taller man mumbles as he finishes ringing up the order. “Now go pester your coworkers, I’m sure they miss you.” Tony blows him a kiss as he leaves.

——

One spectacularly terrible day, Tony walks in as Loki is reaching over the counter to take a drink from Steve. His fingers are lingering over the barista’s, and Natasha’s face is twitching into a sneer. That genuinely scares Tony, his mind flipping into Overprotective Mode. “Well hello.”

Loki’s startled as he jerks away. “Stark. I didn’t realize you had finally sunk low enough to hang around this side of the tracks.”

“Well I hung around your apartment enough; I guess the charm of the lower class finally won me over. How’re the horses treating you these days?” Tony rattles off snidely. Natasha struggles to hide a grin, turning to put some clean dishes up.

“Oh you guys know each other?” Steve asks blithely. “Wow, I guess this city is pretty small.”

“Yes, it is,” Loki murmurs lowly as he turns back to Steve with a wide smile. “Will you be joining my brother and I then? He’s been practically begging to see which of you is the better drinker.”

Steve pauses in wiping the counter to look around uncertainly. “I’d like to, but I’m not sure if it’s exactly ethical for me to hang out with regular customers.”

“Probably isn’t,” Tony gripes, opening a bag of almonds and popping one in his mouth.

“It’s not as if you’re giving us free coffee, and we won’t be asking you for money.” Tony barked a laugh at him. Loki shot him a quick glare.

The bell tinkles loudly. “Tell me my brother has convinced you yet, Captain!” a deep voice calls out. “It will be a most adventuresome evening, and of course it will greatly improved by your presence!”

“Well, how can I say no to an invite like that,” Steve smiles in concession, the younger man’s enthusiasm catching. “I’ll be there, Thor. You guys are right across the street, right?” Steve gathers details from the brothers who live in adjacent apartments in the complex across the street. Their accents are entirely different despite their being brothers, Steve’s always wondered why. With cups in hand the brothers exit. He turns to see Natasha’s face twitching as she attempts to bore holes into the counter with her eyes. He wants to ask her if she thinks agreeing to go was a good idea, but she seems to be deep in thought so he lets it go.  
A trash can sits on her right, and he realizes it’s out of place. He goes to put it back, pulling it away from the counter but something’s holding it back. He tugs it harder and hears a small noise as he rips it free. He stares as Tony throws his hands up to defend himself. He purses his lips into a concerned line as he asks, “Tony. Why are you under the counter?”

“Please don’t turn me over to the viking. I’d like to live please,” he replies breathlessly.

“Wha-” he asks before Natasha bursts into loud, painful sounding guffaws. Both men stare at the younger woman as she doubles up on the counter, pressing her forehead into the cool surface. Her laughter dies down eventually but she remains bent over. “Uh, Natasha? Are you okay?”

“I think I’ll take my chances with the giant,” Tony mumbles fearfully as he stands up.

When she straightens up, there is dampness near her eyes, but her face is in her usual disinterested mask. “You,” she points at Tony, “and Loki dated. After what could have only been a long painful break up, he convinced Thor it was all your fault and sicked him on you. It’s not like he could touch you financially or emotionally, so he sent his beast of a brother after you. That is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time.” She glances at the clock, then heads wordlessly to the back untying her apron as she goes.

“Okay, that is scary accurate. Are you a psychic? A stalker?” Tony calls after her. That girl was going to go places with her freaky ability to read people, come hell or high water. He chews on his lip as he thinks on how quickly his instinct took over once he’d heard Thor’s voice. He had immediately dived behind the small door, ducking under the counter. Natasha had wordlessly slid the trashcan in place, blocking him completely from view. He needed to remember to thank her later.

Turning to snap off some sarcastic comment about how he was just making sure he wouldn’t hurt Thor with his awesome superpowers to Steve, he stops with his mouth hanging open. Steve’s staring at him with something akin to concern, something almost piteous. Tony shuts his mouth before shoving his hands in pockets. Walking around to the other side of the counter silently, he makes for the door.

“Did you guys really date?”

The quietness in Steve’s voice catches him off-guard. He turns back and answers, “Mm. We did. But he was mostly after my money and I wasn’t interested in playing his petty games, so yeah. I dumped him, he dropped his drunken brother on my doorstep. I thankfully wasn’t alone so I mean. There wasn’t much damage done, but when I see him I kind of. Get that fight or flight feeling. No bad blood between us though, he sent me a bottle of scotch to apologize.”

“Oh. Wow.” Steve takes a moment to turn things over in his head, looking at a point to right of Tony’s face. “So would that prevent you from coming to Thor’s birthday party with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write. Also, I mean, who wouldn't eat cookie's off of Cap's abs if they had the chance and were so inclined? I'm just sayin'. Nudist bakeries. They're gonna be the next big thing.


	4. Unnoted and Noted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce shows up, Tony and Steve argue some more, and then there's a wagon.

Dr. Bruce Banner is a quiet man. Unless you get him excited about something. And right now, he is very excited.

“Tony, don’t you understand what this means?” he rambles as he and his coworker/boss walk briskly down the street. Summer clings tightly to the last few days of September. Glaring up at the sun reflecting off the glass of the fifteen-story buildings around him, Tony finds some comfort in knowing this awful weather’s days are numbered.

“No, I don’t actually. I’m the numbers and electronics genius, you’re the heart doctor. Doctor.” He unconsciously picks up his pace when he sees Cap’s Coffee around the corner.

“Oh don’t play dumb,” he jibes happily. "You helped me find the appropriate research for your surgery. Without your help that thing wouldn’t be nearly as effective as it is now,” he scoffs, hurrying to keep up with him. “You’d be lugging around a, a car battery if you hadn’t figured out how to wire the transmitter correctly.”

“And you’re the one who put it in me and won the world’s best game of Operation, so let’s uh, let’s call it even shall we?”

“Don’t let Steve hear that,” comes a smooth voice from the bus stop sign. Tony pauses in his excited jog up the few steps to the cafe, turning to see that same bright red bob of hair that usually gives him change and snark standing on the sidewalk behind him. “It would break his little heart.” There’s the tiniest lilt in her voice, and Tony knows that she’s acting facetious but speaking truthfully.

“What? Boy scout in there? How would that break his heart?” Tony asks, watching her carefully. Her round sunglasses and long curly bangs obscure her features easily, and he has trouble seeing her expression.

Natasha puts her hands in the pockets of her thigh length black vest, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, considering even the slightest flirtation from you turns him as red as my shirt,” it is a loose fitting mauve tee shirt, and yeah that was pretty close to Steve’s blush actually, “I think you can figure that out yourself, Stark.” Her bus pulls up with a squeal of air brakes and Tony loses sight of her as people rush forward.

Bruce stands at his elbow looking concerned. “What was that about?”

“Mm. Haven’t the slightest. C’mon, I’m melting out here,” Tony says carelessly, but the gears in his head are whirring faster than usual. Has it been working? All his idiotic annoyances, all the times he’s made comments about how attractive he finds Steve, are they not just ricocheting off a wall of naivety and denial so thick that it makes the Great Wall of China look like a picket fence? He watches Steve carefully as he greets the two familiar faces, accepting exact change from a young boy arguing with his friend for his turn to pay for them both. One of them stops arguing long enough to glance behind them and recognition dawns on his broad face. Tony doesn’t see the way he nudges the other boy and whispers something in his ear. He’s too busy noticing the way Steve’s constantly glancing at him while making the boys’ drinks. From behind his aviators, he watches how the blond man’s smile seems broader, his eyelids are wide open in excitement. And there seems to be a little bit of a glimmer to them. Maybe he’s reading too much into it. Maybe Steve’s just excited about that dumb party next week. Wait, no. It was next week last week. He sighs as he remembers that the party he’s been dreading for the past eight days is indeed tonight.

This entire time, Bruce has been bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly as he scans the menu boards. He always tries something new when they come; he hasn’t had the same drink twice. The boys-that now Tony thinks are a couple due to the closeness they maintain even when walking over to a nearby table, also oh hey they’re holding hands-have their drinks and now Bruce is making his selection. “I hear it’s a bit of an acquired taste,” Steve warns him. Not many people try the iced green tea unless they’ve had it already, but Bruce is shrugging his worries away as he pays for his drink. Steve takes it graciously, asking Bruce about his day, which only serves to further excite him. He babbles about the new results he got this morning in his lab, and Steve just smiles through his babbling. “I understood maybe thirty percent of what you just said, but I’m glad your work’s going so well.”

And then it’s Tony’s turn. As Steve comes to him, he seems to step a lot closer to the counter than he had before. An accident, sure. People don’t step the same exact way all the time. His voice lowers slightly, and Tony wonders how he ever missed that husky tone when Steve spoke to him before. Bruce hasn’t noticed anything, he’s too busy answering his cell phone.

“Just the latte, thanks Cap,” he says shortly. Steve seems to search his eyes-or well, his own reflection in his sunglasses-for a moment before ringing up his order.

His smile becomes smaller as he questions, “Doing all right today? You’re not as chatty as usual.”

“Mm, no Bruce has been doing enough talking for six of me this morning. Kind of wears you out to see someone so happy-“

“No, no you’re not serious?” Bruce wails quietly, gaining everyone’s attention. “No, just-just stop for now. I’ll be back in five. No I’m fine I just…you ran it the same way? Argh!” he growls as he clicks his phone closed. He places his drink on the counter and flips through some data on his phone.

“All right over there, buddy?” Tony asks evenly.

“No, not really,” he chuckles. “They can’t get the same results again. Those interns are pretty useless when I’m not there, but they shouldn’t have messed with the settings and I told them to note them. Why can’t it just…do it again?! What am I missing?”

Tony takes a few steps over towards him, but doesn’t get too close. “Hey it’s cool. You just need to get back there and fix what needs to be fixed. You got it once, you’ll get it again. No worries.”

“Yeah, but what if it was a fluke?” he gripes loudly. “Tony I need to go back and fix this stupid problem. It’s like nothing can go right for me for very long, it’s always-“

“Bruce, slow down,” Tony warns him, stepping a little closer. The two boys leave, trying not to rush but wanting out quickly.

“Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine as soon as he calms down,” Tony answers lowly. “Bruce? Are you breathing?” he asks in a commanding voice.

“I just want to finish this project, but the tests never match up!” the doctor garbles, tensing and curling in on himself. He stops speaking, only breathing deeply. His face was almost turning purple at this point, but it begins returning to a more normal tone as he struggles to control himself. “I…whew, I should-” he looks around dazed.

Tony’s right there, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him to a nearby booth. He immediately lays back with an arm over his face, mumbling apologies. “It’s okay Bruce, take it easy. We’ll head back when you’re ready.” The doctor nods weakly. Tony turns to his right, only to find Steve standing right beside him. Had he been hovering this whole time? “He’ll be fine, really.”

“What happened?” he asks, concern in his voice. His brows are knit in worry, and his hands are fisted as if he wants so badly to help but doesn’t know what to do.

Tony takes a moment to be appropriately touched by how much this man cares for someone he’s only known in passing for a month or so. His throat’s tight when he tries to speak and he has to clear it. “Ahem, uh, it’s a heart condition. Combined with anger issues.” Steve nods slowly, the fear easing out of his eyes. “He’ll be fine, he just needs to rest for-ah, for a bit-you know you are standing awfully close to me,” he rattles off nervously.

“Oh,” Steve exclaims, as if he’s realized this fact for the first time at that moment. “Sorry, just wanted to help. If I could.” He doesn’t step away, something in Tony’s steely gaze trapping him there.

His eyebrows jump up in an apathetic motion. “Hey, never said I minded. In fact I may-dare I say-enjoy it.”

The blond just chuckles and moves to step away, breaking their gaze. “Tony-“

“I wasn’t joking.”

Steve freezes, dark blue eyes locking back onto Tony’s. And he notices the darkness under them. When had he taken off his glasses? When had he last slept? Or eaten a whole meal? After a long silence Steve asks quietly, “Tony, when was the last time you slept for more than a couple of hours?”

Tony scoffs and shoves Steve in the chest. “I’ve been really busy helping Bruce out.”

“I thought you hired Clint so you’d have time to sleep.”

“I brought him on board because I was attempting to do the job of three people. But now I have him and Dr. Banner and I can focus on what I should have been doing the whole time; creating the new products.” A little voice in the back of his head tells him he’s using the same tone he uses at board meetings or with the press. It’s cold and clipped, full of sharp syllables and rudeness.

Steve hears it too apparently, since he’s scowling and about to walk away at any moment. “Well it doesn’t matter if you don’t take care of yourself. It’s kind of hard to do work from the ER.”

“Done it before and I’ll do it again.” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Steve’s face loses its scowl, slipping into sad blankness. “Ah-I mean, not often, but deadlines are important-“

“How are people supposed to care for you if you don’t care for yourself?” the taller man nearly begs. He reaches out one hand and wraps it around Tony’s arm, gripping it gently and rubbing circles with his thumb. Tony repeats that question over and over in his head, but somehow he can’t make heads or tails of it especially with Steve touching him. He can feel the heat of his palm through two layers of clothing, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel heavenly.

“Smell burning,” Bruce mutters from the booth. Steve jerks his whole body away from Tony out of surprise.

“Oh-crap, I-” he shouts, running back behind the counter. When Bruce had started acting strangely, he had left the steaming wand in the milk cup. Most of it had evaporated at this point. Had he been so wrapped up in Tony that he hadn’t smelled it first?

“Anything destroyed?” Tony asks, sounding bored.

Steve sets his jaw tight at the other’s tone. “No,” he grates out. “Not really. I’ll finish your latte.”

“Mm. Thanks.” Another minute and Bruce is sitting up, all apologies. The other two just shrug them off, it’s nothing that could be helped. As the coworkers leave, Steve calls after Tony.

“I’m sorry.” Tony stops right in front of the door the doctor had already gone through, turning to see him as he say, “I don’t have any right to talk to you that way. You’re just…a very frustrating person sometimes.”

“Well, you and all of my ex’s share that opinion,” Tony mutters under his breath. “Don’t let it bother you Cap. Just a bad day all around.”

Steve struggles for his next words. “You know you don’t have to come to Thor’s party tonight. I mean if you’d rather sleep or get some work done-“

“Nah. I’m due for a little reckless abandon. I’ll be there.” Steve’s face brightens up at this. Tony makes his best decision all day and keeps his next sentiment to himself. Even if it kills me.  
——  
Later that same night, Steve sits on a sidewalk railing in front of his shop. He already closed the store, did all his paperwork, showered, fretted over what to wear, fretted about Tony while double checking his battered old cell phone, and changed clothes twice. Thinking back on it, he probably worried a lot more than he should have in the past two hours. It’s just a birthday party after all. With nothing else to do, he squints at his ancient phone. He wonders if texting Tony would be bothersome. If he doesn’t arrive soon, they’ll both be late. Stuffing down his anxiety, he looks around him.

Cars rush by, filled with people looking for fun in the sweltering Saturday night. It’s one of the last nights of summer for most of the students. Steve feels fond nostalgia as he remembers what that felt like. Knowing that your vacation was almost over and trying to make the most of the time you have. He leans forward slightly, as if weighed down by his regret. He could never think of what he wouldn’t give to have a time machine. He perks up at a strange noise; squeaking wheels and the clinking of several glass items hitting each other. An older woman comes up the sidewalk, stopping in front of him with a wooden-slatted children’s wagon, stacked full with packages covered in bright yellow paper. “Steve Rogers?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answers as he drops off the railing.

“This is a delivery from Mr. Stark.” Well, that explains almost everything. “If I could have you sign for it?” Steve tries not to seem amazed at the wireless equipment that he signs with a tiny plastic stick. He’ll never get used to this kind of stuff, he’s just stuck in the past when it comes to technology. The cell phone and his computer were the only exceptions to this fact, both being necessary to running a business. As the delivery woman makes her way back to her van with a polite good-night, Steve just stands and stares at the thing before him. The wagon is obviously brand new, and Steve’s fairly sure the packages are Thor’s presents. There’s at least six of the large packages. Is Tony trying to bribe his way into Thor’s favor, even though he said they have no bad blood? He looks closer, and finds a piece of paper and an envelope taped to the top of one of the packages. The envelope is labeled ‘THOR’ in scratchy lettering, and the folded paper reads, “OPEN ME STEVE I HOLD ALL THE ANSWERS.” Laughing softly, Steve does as instructed.

“Hi Cap. If you’re reading this, then bravo! The delivery company I most certainly did not threaten an intern with organizing my notes to find at the last minute has done its job wonderfully, and you are now guarding my peace offering to the loud Scandinavian. And if it’s really good, this should arrive about ten minutes before I arrive myself. I’m aiming to be there before the present does, but knowing me I’ll miss that deadline, sorry. Taking your advice and napping. Naps are great aren’t they? Man nothing better than to cuddle up with someone—am I rambling, oops. I’m pretty exhausted so I’ll see you in a bit.

Love Sincerely,  
Tony Stark

PS: Hope you’re not driving, I believe we’re going to the grown-up equivalent of a kegger. Keep it together, Rogers.”

“Really?” Steve mutters, one eyebrow quirking up in amusement. He folds the note into quarters and then tucks it into his back pocket. He hopes he doesn’t lose it at the party. After moving the wagon out of the way of people walking up and down the sidewalk the blond leans back against a brick column, prepared to wait patiently for the most impatient person he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments guys! <3


	5. Night and Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thor's birthday! Tony has no clue what's going on! Darcy appears! Everyone's drunk (except Steve)!

To Tony’s dismay, the party is being held at Loki’s apartment. He doesn’t have any time to dwell on his disappointment, because he finds himself buried into Thor’s barrel chest as the blond man crushes him into the longest hug of his life.

“I am pleased you came, Stark! I had feared you would still remember that embarrassment of two years past,” he announces as he releases Tony.

“Pssh, water under the bridge,” the shorter man wheezes, hoping his ribs and organs are still where they should be.

“And I see you have the Captain in tow!” They exchange greetings as Tony takes everything in. Loki had changed the living room around some, but other than that things look the same since Tony had been here last. Natasha sits on a sleek green couch, talking to two girls who look her age. There are gold framed art prints on the walls and music playing from the gleaming black stereo on the entertainment center. Loki stands there, spine straight with a drink in one hand and an iPod trailing a black cable to the stereo in the other. As he puts it down, Tony immediately recognizes the song playing and has to cough to keep from laughing outright. Gotye, really? Subtle.

“Stark-Tony is all this for me?” Thor asks in disbelief as he finally notices the wagon behind them.

“Well, for you and us. Sharing is caring, y’know,” Tony answers dismissively. Steve looks at him with a corner of his mouth quirked up in a way that Tony’s never seen before. Is that pride lingering in his eyes? Tony can’t say he’s ever been so sure he was wrong before.

But it is pride. Steve knows deep (way deep) down Tony wanted to do something about the way things had ended between him and Thor. Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered telling Steve what had happened. Tony likes hearing the sound of his voice as much as the next guy, but he’s always got a reason for the things he says. He still came here of his own volition-he could have made perfectly acceptable excuses, but here he was. Glancing across the spacious apartment at the approaching figure of their host, Steve feels himself tense up. He should really be concerned about making sure the two of them-Tony and Loki-stay as far apart as physically possible, but the way Loki smirks at Tony’s back practically has him raising his fists to knock the look off his face. The sudden urge leaves him blinking in confusion. Loki has never been anything but friendly to him, why does he suddenly want to deck him?

Loki merely greets them both with warm welcomes, asking them to feel at home and not to hesitate if they need anything, and directing them to the bathroom should they need it. He lets them know cake will be served promptly at nine. Steve almost laughs at the duality of what Loki’s saying. “The toilet’s down the hall if you need to puke your guts out but be ready for cake and ice cream early, kids!”

Tony’s first drink is one of the many bottles of mead he’d hunted down for Thor. The blond brute had almost started crying when he’d torn the yellow paper of the topmost package. Tony had managed to find a liquor store in town that catered to a more international palette, and had asked for “A wagon full of something for a guy named Thor.” He’d then sent one of the company drivers and the hand written notes to Steve, who he could trust to watch over the package. He had doubled up in laughter when he saw that his arbitrary volume description had landed him with an actual wagon, but Tony was graceful when rolling with the punches if nothing else.

And now here he is, pretending not to waterfall a guy who thinks a sip is half the damn bottle. He finds himself grateful that this stuff is smooth as silk, if a little too sweet for his taste. Thor looks appropriately blissed as he lowers his bottle. “Tony I know it is impossible for you to know but…” Tony sips some more as Thor thinks his words over carefully. It’s a little better on the second try, the sweetness less of a kick in the tongue and more of a warmth spreading over him. He acts like he isn’t focusing on the taste in his mouth to give Thor time to find the right words before Tony gets bored and speaks over him. “This was my father’s favorite drink. I remember seeing these same bottles in our icebox when I was a boy. I looked forward to the day I would come of age and my father and I would share a drink. I just assumed it would be one of the many unfulfilled dreams we have as children.” Tony wants his tongue to stop feeling so impossibly heavy so he can make some witty retort and abscond into the night. But something in Thor’s quiet tone, in the way he appears at complete odds with his brother’s immaculate chrome finished kitchen keeps Tony silent and still. “And now here you are, a man my brother has multiple times defamed as heartless, offering me a piece of my own heart as a birthday gift.” Thor doesn’t look at the other man at all, instead he gazes lovingly at the brown glass bottle in his massive hands.

“Well, ah. To be fair, I totally cheated. I just called a liquor store and randomly got this. So you should really thank the brilliant cashier who fielded my call. Lucky break I guess.” Thor’s still smiling, so Tony draws another long sip of the too-sweet beer before stating, “But for the record, I am glad that my random instructions made the gift even more ah, meaningful to you. Happy you like it then.” He’s almost blinded by the thousand-watt smile Thor tosses at him carelessly. Tony mutters something explanatory before escaping the kitchen with an extra bottle of mead-apparently mead is a thing, what even is that?-searching for a corner to hide in for the rest of the night.

Tony’s fourth drink is a shot of vodka. Natasha’s gift apparently. He resolutely remains straight-faced as she pours another for them each. Thor makes a face.

“I am not overly fond of this drink.”

“It’s not much of a gift if I’m the only one drinking it. Sorry, I guess my head was in the wrong place with this one,” she mumbles in a clipped tone.

Tony grins at the way Natasha starts when Thor claps her back in gratitude. “Nay, Romanov. I appreciate the gesture for what it is. Variety is always welcome in our young lives!” The smile that slides across her face is nearly astonishing in its ease. A busty classmate of Thor’s (Darcy something, Tony remembers, she poured him a great highball earlier) sidles up beside Natasha. She wordlessly pours the newcomer a shot after giving her a small grin, and Tony can see the drunken make out already happening.

Tony’s fifth drink is interrupted by Loki’s insistent call for cake. There are another four people at least that Tony’s not familiar with standing around the dining area. Steve reappears from wherever it was that Tony lost sight of him and comes up behind him with a quiet “Hey.” The lights are dimmed as the candles on a cake hopefully bigger than Thor’s appetite are lit. Beautifully. Tony registers this in his mind as one of those moments he never wants to fade from his memory. Steve is standing behind him, hand on his hip, as the happy faces around him let out whoops of joy when one of their own blows out the candles. Tony closes his eyes, leaning back into the warm strength offered to him for a few extra moments. He most certainly does not quietly whine in the back of his throat when Steve removes his hand to accept cake. The second slice of course, Loki wouldn’t even let him have any extra seconds that close to Steve.

Tony’s phone buzzes persistently at him before Loki gets to hand him his slice. Out of instinct, he takes it out of his pocket while turning towards the patio doors. He shoves the curtains asides and pulls the sliding glass door open, the warm night air sobering him slightly. “Hello Bruce.”

“Uh, hi Tony.” He sounds a little taken aback. Did Tony sound abnormal? “Are you at home? I wanted to go over today’s tests with you.”

“I’m ah,” Tony stops himself as he realizes he never told Bruce or Clint about the incident with Loki or the party. “No I’m not. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Bruce can’t help the disappointed tone he adopts. “I mean, if you’re busy. Where are you anyway? Sounds noisy.”

“Not important,” he says decidedly, closing the door behind him to shut off what sounds like singing. He leans against the wooden railing of the porch, looking down onto the closed-off courtyard a floor beneath him. “What’s on your mind, babe?”

Bruce huffs a short laugh, pausing before launching into a slew of data and results. It’s almost half an hour later before Steve pokes his head out the door to check on him. “Are you all right out here?”

“Yeah, just wrapping this up,” Tony replies shortly, unable to tear his eyes from his phone. Steve sits on one of the lounge chairs, waiting. He enjoys listening to Tony and Bruce go back and forth like this; Bruce presenting problems in their results, Tony suggesting what went wrong, both of them figuring out how to prevent it next time. It’s a surprisingly short amount of time before Tony slips his phone back in his pocket. “Did I miss anything in there?”

“Thor relit the candles and demanded we sing again so he could blow them out. Darcy almost tried to douse the candles with vodka, I thought Natasha was going to put her in time-out for that. Sif and the guys are fifteen sheets to the wind already.” Steve stops talking with a sharp exhale. Tony’s eyes flicker to where he sits with a bottle gripped tightly in his hands, sitting uncomfortably in a steel-framed canvas chair, glaring into the pitch black yard.

“You okay, Steve?” Tony asks, accustomed to checking on the mental state of people around him.

“Is this what a party is these days?” he bites out, avoiding Tony’s eyes. “Sitting around getting plastered?”

Shrugging, Tony tells him, “Some parties, yeah. Most even. People like to cut loose, but these days they feel the need to have an excuse. Blame it on the alcohol, y’know.”

“I mean, I’ve done my fair share of excessive drinking, but the way everyone’s…” he gestures jerkily. “Like it’s a challenge.”

“Well, you’ve got a lot of aggressive personalities in there.” Steve tips his head in agreement. Then his brow creases.

“Are you saying I’m not? Aggressive?”

Tony-to his merit-does not laugh in his friend’s face. He deserves a gold star for good behavior for that, he thinks. “Oh, maybe passive-aggressive. Aggressively polite, is it possible to be aggressively naive-“

“I am not passive-aggressive.”

“The first day you met me you told me to fuck off and still did little drawings in my latte’s foam.”

“I didn’t say that!” Steve’s face is glowing in the darkness. “I mean, what I did say that day wasn’t right. Did I ever apologize for that?”

“For what? Being one of a very few people to refuse to take my bullshit?” Tony shrugs again, standing up from the no-longer-comfortable chair. “Don’t be sorry about that. If you hadn’t pissed me off like that, I would have forgotten you-your cafe in an instant.” He offers a full smile, no malice in his eyes for once. “So yeah, thanks for being a dick right back to me.”

Steve smiles warmly back at him as he stands as well. He takes two steps, planting himself firmly in Tony’s personal space. Without any warning, he leans forward and presses his lips to the shorter man’s mouth. Tony instantly responds, pushing back earnestly, his eyes sliding closed. All too soon, Steve steps away. Tony’s body dips forward, chasing after the missing warmth. The smirk the motion earns him does nothing to calm his racing heart. Well, that can’t be healthy. “You’re welcome,” Steve says, turning to go back inside.

“Wait, what-really? That’s it?! You-that’s-you tease!” Tony splutters as he follows. Steve just laughs at him as he pulls the door shut and the curtains back. “No seriously, that was foul! Why would you-is Thor singing Nicki Minaj?” He is indeed, throwing his head back as he shuffles around enthusiastically with a petite brunet girl in one arm and the bottle of vodka in the other.

Tony’s sixth drink is another (stronger) highball he mixes himself. He’s falling behind all the youngsters, and as a veteran of binge drinking he really needs to represent his age bracket. When he comes back into the living room, Thor’s softly crooning-or as softly as he can manage-Moment for Life to the tiny girl cradled in his arms. She kisses him shortly before untangling from his grip. She walks over to Darcy, who sits on the arm of the couch, talking to Natasha.

“Darcy, it’s almost ten. We should get going.”

Darcy giggles madly before saying, “Nah, ‘m staying.”

“We still need to get work done on that-“

“Jane,” Natasha interrupts quietly, “I think Darcy’s too drunk right now to work on anything. I live close by, so I can keep an eye on her.”  
“Fine,” Jane scowls. “That’s fine. Just don’t blame me when you don’t get into graduate school.” She stomps out in a huff. Darcy just laughs more.

“Man, fuck grad’ate school. Whoa, is it really only ten?! Holy shit, I am so drunk.”

“Here,” Natasha says, handing her a bottle of water after cracking the seal for her.

Darcy gulps a third of it down before putting the cap back on. “Thanks! You’re like a fairy godmother. A hot fairy godmother. Oh man, that would be the best Halloween costume, sexy fairy godmother!” She waves the bottle like a wand. “Bibbity-bobbity-boner!” she shouts before dissolving into another giggling fit. Natasha laughs helplessly beside her. Their eyes lock for a moment and before either of them can blink, Natasha finds herself with a lap full of Darcy, and a mouth full of another tongue.

Tony tries not to stare, he does-but it’s like watching a slow-motion car wreck. Can’t look away. “It’s rude to gawk, Stark,” Loki intones from beside him.

He has to swallow some of his drink to get his mouth to work. “Just making sure they don’t fall into the coffee table or something.”

“Oh, I’m sure you only have their safety in mind,” the thinner man laughs. Tony knows from his tone that he’s not even a little drunk, but Loki has always had control issues. It took a lot to convince him to drink much at all. Glancing around, Tony notices that Steve’s nowhere to be seen. Bathroom, most likely.

“What’s your angle on Steve?” Tony questions abruptly.

Loki quirks an arched brow at him. “Getting straight to the point for once? My, how love changes a man.”

“And you’re avoiding the question with misdirection. Guess old dogs can’t learn new tricks, huh?” Tony quips back. “Seriously, what do you want with him? Just playing around or do you have something specific in mind?”

Loki doesn’t answer him immediately. He watches as his brother’s friends attempt to lift the couch with Thor and the two girls on it. They succeed and cheer mightily. Darcy and Natasha (who have switched positions somehow) fail to notice the change in elevation until someone slips and Natasha tumbles from the other girl’s lap. She twists and lands on one foot and both hands in a fluid motion. The cheering resumes even as Steve returns from wherever he was and calls for the couch to be replaced. “I have no plans for Steve. It’s rather relaxing. To flirt harmlessly with someone so constantly oblivious. Though I think you’re making more headway with him than I am.” Loki shrugs, apathy making his words soft. “I suppose I’m just not his type.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tony rolls his eyes. “You not having an ulterior motive is about as likely as me getting to the guy’s pants,” he says before remembering what had happened outside. He makes a small “Mm” noise before striding purposefully to the stereo. “Mind if I commandeer the tune-age guys?”

“Oh, Tony, no one wants to hear music older than they are tonight,” Loki whines from the kitchen.

“Shoosh, ye of terrible taste.” Tony removes the iPod (fucking Mac, hipster trash is what it is) and plugs the audio cable into his phone. And introduces the entire party to Flogging Molly with a roaring, spinning success.

Tony’s twelfth…fourteenth…Tony finds himself with a beer in one hand and a sub in the other. “Sandwiches?” he asks aloud, looking around to find the others similarly equipped.

“Sandwiches,” Natasha agrees. “You paid.”

“Huh.” He knows he gets more magnanimous than usual when he drinks-or so Rhodey says-but it still surprises him.

“You were telling us about Bruce Banner,” Loki offers helpfully, his voice even.

“Oh, right. Brucey-babe. He’s the best, really. We wouldn’t be where we are in the research without him. He’s pretty much saved the sinking ship that was my latest project. Also absolutely adorable, even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“Is he your type?” Natasha asks, all innocent curiosity as she keeps Steve’s face in her peripheral.

Tony responds distractedly as he peeks between the bread to find turkey, bacon, and guacamole. Ah, good drunk-Tony, no cheese. “Hm? Oh, well, I don’t have a type per say. My attention span’s way too short to be attracted to just one body or personality type.” He takes an experimental bite and finds no mayo. The small nibble seems to wake his stomach, and it doesn’t so much growl as it does roar. He doesn’t bother trying to remember the last time he actually ate as he begins tearing into the sandwich.

It’s down to Thor, Loki, Steve, a young woman who makes Tony think of sharp daggers, and Natasha; all camped out on the living room carpet. Darcy’s curled up on the couch with the three frat boys, all snoring on each other. A look at his watch tells him it’s almost three in the morning. Thankfully Sundays are quiet for him; the oncoming hangover shouldn’t impede much. He’s about to suggest they wrap up soon, when Thor finishes his second sub and turns to the cabinet in the entertainment center. He pulls out a PS3 controller and waggles it at Tony. “I hear you are skilled with technology, Stark. Would you challenge me?”

So instead of leaving, everyone still conscious plays Little Big Planet for almost an hour. When Tony’s waiting for his turn, he pretends not to notice Loki standing after his phone vibrates in his pocket. Or when he slips silently out the door a moment later. Tony drains his drink and goes to the kitchen to get another. He lingers by the door on the way, hearing Loki loudly argue with someone on his phone in the hallway. He passes by soon, not wanting to seem suspicious. It’s difficult to think clearly with so much alcohol and exhaustion pounding through his body.

“Tony, I don’t think you need another drink. We should all split soon,” Steve says as he pads up behind him. Tony tells himself the weird twisty thing his insides just did was out of surprise. “Thor’s starting to fall asleep, and Natasha’s trying to wake the guys and Darcy.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay,” Tony scrubs at his face, conceding without a fight. “D’you know where the water is then?”

Steve hands him the bottle in his hand, and Tony gulps it down quickly. “Feeling all right?” he asks as he steps closer, brushing some of Tony’s short hair from his forehead.

Tony’s stomach does another somersault. “Yeah, it’s ah, all-“ He has to swallow a sudden excess of spit. Was he seriously drooling over Steve- “Oh wait, no, not good,” he gasps as he makes for the bathroom, ignoring Steve’s worried shouts.  
——  
Tony drifts in and out of sleep, pieces of the previous night slipping around his mind. Eventually, he cracks open his eyes to find himself-surprisingly-in his own bed. Groaning, he rolls onto his side and clutches a pillow to his face. He shoves himself upright after a while, waiting for the oncoming headache to hit him. There’s a small twinge in the back of his skull and his legs are sore as hell, but he’s come out worse for the amount of whiskey he remembers drinking. He finds a hot cup of coffee, two aspirins, and his cell phone on his nightstand. He almost burns his tongue on the coffee, ignores the pills, and checks his phone. There are a few random pictures from last night, no texts and just one outgoing call made to Clint. That must be how he got home. The smell of something cooking (wow when was the last time he smelled something like that in his apartment?) wafts in from the small opening in the doorway. Reluctantly he stands and discovers he’s only wearing his boxers and a tee shirt.

Steve is in his kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs. Tony pauses before greeting him, struck with a desperate longing to wake up to a morning like this every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really just wanted them all to get drunk together. Also, Thor singing Nicki Minaj. It had to happen. I regret nothing. Thanks as always for reading!


	6. Agree and Argue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Bruce meet, Fury is a witch, Natasha is (mildly) surprised, and Bruce passes out inconveniently.

Loki sneers at his cell phone as he ends the call. His new “boss” is starting to piss him off more and more with every communication. But it’s no matter. He’s good at his job, the best really, so there will be results soon enough. Looking through the spotless windows of Cap’s Coffee, he affixes a friendly smile on his face, letting his jaw unclench. He makes his usual cheery banter with Steve, and takes his iced coffee over to one of the many occupied tables. It’s late afternoon and there are people everywhere with laptops, portfolios, notebooks, and cups of coffee in hand. He’s only interested in one person today.

“Excuse me,” he says to a man pulled in on himself and his tablet. He jumps slightly and looks up questioningly with dark hazel eyes. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. Would you mind if I shared your table?”

Bruce glances around himself, and sees that there really isn’t another free table. He could just leave but Tony isn’t at the office, the lab, or his apartment and this is the only other place he would be. And Bruce really needs to hear from him about the patent. “Uh, n-no, that’s fine,” he answers belatedly. Loki slides into the chair across from him, setting his cup in the middle of the table and propping his face on a fist. Bruce tries to ignore the other man, but he can feel the stranger staring at him. His first instinct is to ignore him, but once he’s aware of someone staring at him he finds it impossible to ignore that creeping sensation. He meets the light green eyes boring into his face and forces his voice to be even. “Is there something on my face?”

“You’re Doctor Bruce Banner,” Loki smiles warmly.

Taking a moment to absorb the younger man’s appearance, Bruce asks, “And how would you know that?”

“Because I stalk you,” Loki says with as serious as an expression as he can manage before stretching his mouth into an apologetic sort of smirk. “I’m joking, of course. We’re both acquainted with Tony Stark. He likes to brag about your good deeds constantly, and showed me a picture of you on his phone. It’s hard to forget a face like yours.”

Bruce huffs a breath out of his nose in disbelief. “What uh, good deeds has Tony been accusing me of?”

“You stand trial for single-handedly constructing an easily manufactured and self-perpetuating heart replacement. How do you plead?” Loki says dramatically, pointing a straw at him.

“Not guilty, it was half Tony’s idea and more than half of his wiring,” Bruce says with a gentle grin. “We both fixed it. He must have been pretty drunk to give you all those details.”

“Oh he was, but he’s talked about you while sober as well. My curiosity got the better of me when I saw you sitting here. I’m Loki.” He extends a hand, and Bruce finds it cold to the touch.

\----

Steve hasn’t had such a quiet week in months. Neither Tony nor Bruce have been by at all, only Clint has come by to let Steve know how the other two are. Steve thanks him for his visits, but he can’t help his concern. He knows that Tony’s work is important to him, and that little less than the apocalypse could drag him away from it before it’s finished. And according to Clint, they’re nearing the end of their project. All that’s left is getting the proper funding and applying for patents. 

Steve knows all this. It doesn’t stop him from fretting. 

Finally it’s too much for him, and he texts Tony the next Sunday afternoon from his couch. Hi Tony. I was wondering how you were doing. This is Steve. For the next minute, he paces away and back to the phone, checking to make sure it sent and didn’t just disappear. Two more minutes pass, and Steve has to force himself away from the thing. Five more minutes has him stomping out of the living room. Worry creases his brow as he tidies his bedroom needlessly. Was Tony okay? Was he eating (unlikely) or sleeping (even less likely)? Would he have to pay for his bad habits later in life? Steve could picture the heart and stomach problems Tony was setting himself up for later in life. Anger flashes through him unbidden, leaving him tensed and still. Before he’s aware of what he’s doing, he’s locked his apartment door behind him and jogged down the hallway. From some calm corner of his mind, he tells himself he’s already had a run today. He ignores this and pounds loudly down the stairwell

The sun’s hidden behind thin clouds today; it’s a brief reprieve from the sweltering heat that’s been smothering the city this week. Steve doesn’t notice it, just jogs down the sidewalk with his keys clutched tightly in his fist. His mind clears as his heart rate accelerates and his breath becomes something to focus on. Loose thoughts roll through his mind as his feet take him wherever they will. Thoughts of his life, so stable and clear. And then in storms Tony, loud and opinionated and aggravating and exhausting and energizing and tender and so deeply hidden behind a fortress of sarcasm and flailing excuses. So eager to kiss back, that night. Was he serious about Steve? Could he even be serious? Steve finds that he wants to find out. He wants to put the other man to the test, see what results he’s given. 

He wants Tony, in every sense of the word.

As he slows down in front of some obnoxiously modern building, drawing in deep slow breaths, Steve just wants to know if Tony wants him too.

“Uh. Hi.”

Steve jerks around, and sees Tony standing behind him and looking a lot like a deer caught in headlights. “Hey,” Steve responds after a too-long pause. They stare at each other warily for a moment. “How are you?”

Tony sways on his feet a little and steps towards him. “Very very tired of meetings. If I have to explain one more time how this new project would make my company millions and give us great PR while being accused of losing my mind and trying to destroy everything my sainted father built, I may just start blowing raspberries at my investors.”

“That sounds like fun,” Steve mumbles. “I hear Bruce has been busy too

Tony’s mouth curves upward, but it’s not a smile. “Why are you here, Steve?” he says, sounding harsher than he wants.

Steve swallows before he can answer. He recognizes the way Tony’s shoulders are slumped downwards, his entire being seemingly held upright by willpower alone. Hands shoved in his pockets, knees bent slightly. He’s ready to run if he has to. “I don’t-“ Looking up, he realizes he’s in front of Tony’s building.

“I mean were you just going to wait out here until I came home? That’s kinda stalker-ish, don’t you think?” Oh, no, stupid mouth. Tony had not meant to say that.

Steve winces. “No, it’s not like that. I was just out for a jog. Ended up here.” He crosses his arms, some of the anger from the first few times he met Tony coming back. “When’s the last time you slept, Tony?”

Indignation rattles up Tony’s spine, straightening his back. “I’m not sure it’s any of your fucking business,” he bites out as he brushes past Steve and towards his building. A hand latches onto his arm, and he freezes.

“Tony. I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly, all the anger out of his voice. “I was…you worry me. You don’t take care of yourself. I just want to help.”

Tony feels all the fight leave him. “I’m exhausted Steve. I didn’t mean…Sorry. Too.”

“It’s okay,” Steve almost laughs. He lets his hand trail down Tony’s arm before letting him go. “Come round the shop some, all right? Natasha misses you.”

Tony chuckles madly. “Oh yeah, I’m sure. Ah, yeah. Yes. I’ll come by tomorrow. I really desperately need to get some more video conferencing done. So I can sleep.

Steve wants to tell him to just reschedule the damn thing, but he bites down on his lip to keep the sentiment to himself. Then, another idea strikes him. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?”

“I’ll make you some dinner,” Steve says decidedly, putting his hand on the small of Tony’s back.

The argument Tony had been about to make dies at the other man’s touch. “Sure, I could go for some Poptarts,” he laughs as he leads the way inside.

“You have to have more than Poptarts up there.” It turns out that Tony does have more food in his kitchen, miraculously. He decides he’ll have to talk to Clint about storing so much food in his liquor cabinets. With the resignation usually seen on men walking to the gallows, he flumps down in front of the desk in the living room. He sets up the video conference while Steve sorts out dinner. Before he can click the “Call” button on his laptop screen, Nick Fury calls him and he accidentally immediately answers.

“Stark. What new toy are you trying to get patented today?” 

“Jesus, Fury! How do you do that?!”

“Witchcraft of course,” the older man responds with a fiery humor. “Start talking, Stark. I’ve got a Sunday dinner to get to yet.”

Even if Fury makes him nervous as hell, Tony knows he can talk shop with him. The “professional face of a huge company” mask comes out, minus some of the smarmy bullshit that the reporters eat up. “Sounds almost too good to be true,” Nick mentions once Tony’s gone over the basics.

“We thought so too, when we first brainstormed it. But we couldn’t let it go, and two years later here we are.” Tony spreads his arms wide and leans back in his chair. He smells something absolutely appetizing coming from the kitchen, and tries to wrap things up quickly. “Any more questions, Director?”

“No, I think for once you’ve actually given us sufficient data. There isn’t even a page that just says, ‘Because I said so.’ It reeks of Banner’s handy-work.”

“Yeah, I let him put all that together. Didn’t want to risk screwing this one up.”

“Good job, Stark,” Nick says quietly, still staring at his packet of info. There’s a clatter from the kitchen, and Nick’s one eye darts up to glare at Tony. “Is someone else there?”

Tony’s mind becomes a flurry of curses and excuses. “Uh. Yes, Clint.”

“Well, then tell him to come over and say hello. You know how much I miss having him at the local office,” Fury requests, danger in his tone.

“No can do, he’s making dinner so we can celebrate,” Tony replies, standing. He’s well aware of how much Fury “misses” Clint.

“You haven’t been approved just yet.”

“Oh, no. We’re celebrating because I get to actually sleep tonight. Hear from you soon, Fury? Sounds great, later!” He ends the call and shuts his laptop down quickly. No need to risk being called back. He finally shucks his jacket, and feels suddenly like he hasn’t properly showered in a few days. It’s not surprising (to him at least) that it’s probable.

He pokes his head into the kitchen, which is far more spacious and well-equipped than Tony could ever need, and clears his throat. “Hey! How’d the call go?” Steve asks, smiling at him from the stove.

“Better than expected. Do I have time for a shower? I’m really not sure I had one…er. Lately.”

“Yeah, if you hurry,” Steve says, turning back to his cooking. Tony takes a moment to appreciate how easy this is, how familiar. He steps up to Steve, wrapping his arms around him from behind. Steve doesn’t get startled, just lays one hand on top of Tony’s with the other hand stirring something. Tony leans his forehead against the nape of Steve’s neck, breathing him in.

“Do you know how much it pisses me off that you’re taller than I am?” Tony mutters into his spine.

Steve laughs at him. “Go shower so we can eat!” Tony salutes as he carries out his orders.

——

Natasha doesn’t bother hiding her grin as Steve babbles on and on, scooping cookie dough onto pans. “And then we watched Megamind, which was really funny. We cuddled on the couch the whole time, and then we went and got ice cream. And then we came back and uh, did things, but then he fell asleep. It was fun though.”

“I wouldn’t have thought Stark was the gentlemanly type. Guess he’s proving me wrong,” she says as she takes a finished pan and puts it in the preheated oven. The timer clicks as she twists it into place.

“I mean I was kind of surprised too. After all those comments he made, I half-expected to get jumped.” His voice lowers and his hand slips from the spoon in the bowl. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow at him as he blushes and renews his cookie-scooping efforts with fervor. This is why she enjoys being around Steve. As much as he’s predictable, he sometimes comes up with unexpected words. And behavior. She honestly had expected him to rebuke against all of Tony’s advances or to merely not notice them. And now here he is, bemoaning the fact that Stark’s the one taking it slow. “It just goes to show,” she says, “you never can tell exactly what people actually want unless you ask them.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, scraping the bowl clean. “Guess you’re right about that.”

“Uh-Steve?” calls a scared voice from the dining room. Natasha and he are darting out of the back room in an instant. Loki leans over Bruce’s slumped form, looking worried. Natasha jumps the counter and grabs Loki’s arms, twisting them behind his back. “What are you-let me go!” Her foot twists around his ankle and jerks. He’s on his stomach before he can blink.

“Natasha, stop, Bruce has a condition-“ Steve shouts as he hurries after her. He hears the bell ring above the door as Tony enters, followed by Thor and Clint. Things were about to get very ugly.

“What’s all-“

“Unhand my brother!” Thor bellows as he crosses the shop to help Loki. Natasha releases him quickly, hands up to defend herself. “Why are you hurting him, we are all friends!” He tries to help Loki to his feet, but the thin man just shrugs him off with a grunt. Thor makes to move towards Natasha, who steps forward as well. Clint steps between them, arms thrown out to stop them.

Tony grumbles as he checks Bruce’s pulse. “For fuck’s sake Bruce, could you pick more convenient times to pass out?” He lets Steve know the doctor’s okay, as the yelling continues.

“Back off Barton, I can handle this,” Natasha says lowly, glaring at Loki.

“You don’t have to handle anything, just stop.”

She ignores him and begins shouting at Loki. “What did you do to Banner? You’ve been getting cozy with him the past week. What did you do, Loki?”  
“Nothing! We were talking and then he just blacked out!” Loki snarls.

“Refrain from accusing my brother of deeds he is innocent of, Romanov.”

“Or what, Thor? You know I could take you, don’t even start with me.” Natasha is about to dart forward, but Steve grabs one of her arms.

“ENOUGH,” he shouts. Everyone becomes silent as they turn their attention to him. “Bruce has a heart condition; it’s not uncommon for him to pass out. It’s no one’s fault and we don’t need to start throwing punches. I suggest you all step away from each other. Now.” He glowers at everyone, and they all take a half-hearted step back. “I’m sure Bruce would appreciate your concern for him less if you started fighting because of it. And I have no real desire to ban all of you from my store.” They all avoid looking at each other, some of the fire leaving their eyes. “Thor, Loki, Clint, I’m going to ask you all to leave. Natasha, close up. Tony, help me get Bruce up to my apartment. We’ll make him comfortable until he’s up again.” Nobody moves at first, as if they’re all about to protest. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go.” Steve’s voice leaves no room for argument, and they all go their separate ways.

Tony follows him silently as they go up to Steve’s home, in awe of the way he’d commanded everyone’s attention back there (and the way Steve was carrying Bruce like he weighed nothing). The way he ordered people around sounded like something he was used to, something familiar. Tony filed it away with the growing list of things he’d need to ask someday. For now, he was too busy staring at the obvious outline of a set of keys in Steve’s back pocket as they climbed the stairs to think about much else. Oh, he was going to have some fun with this.


	7. Knowledge and Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha threatens Clint, and then gives him some important information. Tony finally figures out that he's been taking things far, far too slow for Steve's tastes. And then he fixes this gross oversight.

Clint smirks up at Natasha as she slides into the chair opposite of him. She had slipped him a note with his change this morning at the café. It just had a time and the name of this restaurant written on it. So of course he had shown up.

“I figured it was only a matter of time before you admitted it.” She arches an eyebrow at his statement. “Y’know, that there’s something between us. You and me,” he grins as he points at himself and her.

Smiling sweetly, Natasha reaches out a hand. She takes hold of his finger, and before Clint can wonder at what she’s doing, she bends it backwards. He shouts in pain and she says calmly, “Look at me like that again, and I will show you exactly what I think about ‘you and me.’” 

“OW JESUS OKAY!” She lets go and picks up her menu as if she hadn’t just had Clint in a finger lock. “Christ, what is your problem? Why’d you ask me to meet you here then?”

“We’re here because you need to know something.”

“What’s that?”

Natasha smiles at the pretty waitress as she takes their drink order. Clint nearly rolls his eyes. Oh, of course she’s gay. Way to keep up a stellar winning streak, Barton. But the waitress really is pretty, so he grins at her as she turns to leave.

“What do you know about Jessica Drew?”

Clint freezes, glancing around the Mom’n’Pop diner. “Uh. Wasn’t she an actress? Got really big a few years ago and then just disappeared?”

“What else do you know about Jessica Drew?” Natasha presses.

Clint glares at her. “Nothing.”

“No?”

“Nothing that you should be interested in,” he says quietly as they receive their drinks.

Natasha takes a long sip of her lemonade while Clint orders, then places her own order. She waits until the waitress has gone back to the kitchen before saying, “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, since you’re no longer involved with the Agency. But I feel like you need to know this.”

“For God’s sake, don’t tell me they’ve roped you into their ranks. Natasha, that place will kill you-”

She speaks forcibly over him. “Loki had dinner with Jessica Drew in the restaurant across the street last night.”

“Loki-what?”

“If he’s plotting with Drew, I thought it would be wise to warn you. Since you’re Stark’s assistant now.”

Clint thinks about this information for a minute. Then he chuckles. “Man, Coulson’s going to hate you. Already breaking protocol? It’ll be like I’m back.” Natasha doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him. “Why did you feel the need to warn me?”

She shrugs slightly. “Steve has gotten attached. It would make my life a lot easier if Stark stayed out of trouble.”

Clint chuckles as he stands up. “Just for getting me involved in this bull shit again, you get to pay for my drink. Later.” She doesn’t argue with him. As he strides out of the restaurant, hands digging into his pants pockets, he struggles to keep himself calm. He didn’t need this shit. He thought he’d left it behind him. Thought he’d buried it all away. He curses as he thinks about all the repercussions Jessica Drew’s presence has. He doesn’t jump when his phone rings in his hand, but it’s a close thing. The number is unknown. Clint waits a few seconds, anxiety keeping him still, before answering. “Yeah?”

“Barton,” comes Nick Fury’s gravelly voice. “I have some bad news.”

——

Bruce hums a little tune as he enters the bar, going to the table that had become his regular table over the past few weeks. His date is waiting for him, the first round already ordered. “Hey Loki.”

“Hello Bruce,” Loki answers, smiling with warmth in his eyes. “How was your day?”

“Oh, the usual. Tony’s had me doing the numbers for pre-production. We’re still waiting to hear about the patent and all, but uh.” Bruce takes a long sip from his beer. “Tony doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about. So I uh, I’ll listen to him for now.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitches, with what Bruce assumes to be sympathy. “That will sort itself out, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. So how’re you?”

Heaving a massive sigh, Loki slumps a little lower in his seat. “My employer is still haranguing me about the current project. He doesn’t understand the timelines involved. Sometimes I wish I could work for someone as uncaring for deadlines as Stark.”

“Nah, Tony’s aggravating in his own right.” He stretches out a hand, running his fingertips over Loki’s knuckles. “You’ll make it work.”

Loki doesn’t smile, but his voice is tight with affection. “Thank you.”

——

“Here you go,” Steve says as he hands Tony a steaming mug. It has the creepiest drawings of cats all along the sides. “I’m not much of a coffee drinker myself, I only have tea up here.”

Tony bites back a chuckle. Laughing at Steve-who’s sitting down next to him on the pink and green floral print couch, in a living room that’s besieged by tiny glass   
figurines of grotesquely cute animals, sipping tea from a mug with irises on them-would probably ruin the mood. And Tony does so love the mood. Steve sits as close to Tony as he can without actually touching him, looking everywhere else but at Tony with an intense purpose. Tony drinks his tea, happy to let the other man stew in the tension for a bit. It’s not often that he’s the one being patient and he would like to enjoy the novelty of the experience.

“This is good. I’m not usually one for tea, but I like this.” Steve glances at him as he thanks him. Tony leans back, draping his left arm over the back of the couch. Giddiness forces a smile on his lips as he twists his wrist so that his fingers graze over the back of Steve’s neck. “Not usually one for taking things slow either, but I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Steve laughs sharply. He turns and gives Tony a look that screams, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ “Tony, I think you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Come again?” Tony coughs into his tea. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Steve shifts so that he’s leaning against the arm of the couch, cushioned by garish pink pillows.

“Well, all that talk in public about how much you’d like to get me naked,” Steve says casually, “and then you get me in private, multiple times, and you have yet to act on any of that.” He shrugs as he stretches his legs out, resting them on Tony’s lap. “I think you like to talk big, but I mean, you haven’t delivered.”

“I was-I didn’t-“

“And then there’s me, making all the first moves. Kissed you first-“

“That was a sneak attack-I didn’t even know you liked me!”

Steve just talks over Tony’s spluttering. “I dragged your drunk ass back to your apartment, and slept in your bed with you. You’d start whining if I left you, I didn’t have much choice. So I’ve been in your bed, that’s another first.”

“I think you’ve been playing me all along. Where is my blushing, blond, adorably oblivious Adonis?” Tony rambles sadly, completely ignored.

“And I invited you up for tea. Which-I mean-you say you’re a genius, but you’re pretty bad at picking up on signals aren’t you?” Steve finishes his calm monologue, staring intently at Tony.

Tony stares back at him, completely defeated. After a few moments he puts his cup on the coffee table and asks, “So, what you’re saying is, I’ve been taking it too slow?” He lifts Steve’s legs off his lap, getting his knees on the couch.

“Oh man, you are a genius!” Steve says with a little clap of his hands.

Rolling his eyes, Tony settles himself in Steve’s lap. “Yeah, okay, sarcasm is not called for. C’mere then.” Steve wraps his hands around Tony’s waist as they kiss, both leaning in to meet the other. Tony runs his hands up Steve’s arms to thread his fingers through his blond hair. The kiss is lazy and comfortable at first, until Steve pulls Tony further into his lap. Tony gasps as he breaks away, only to yank Steve’s lips back to him. Steve chuckles into his mouth, then moans as Tony nips at his lips irritably. “This is no laughing matter, Rogers.”

Steve grins up at him as he reaches down to give Tony’s ass a squeeze. Tony raises his eyebrows at him. “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of funny.”

“You would,” Tony grumbles with a roll of his eyes. He ducks his head down and kisses the side of Steve’s neck, then begins to bite it gently. He knows he doesn’t have to be gentle, not with the way Steve’s gripping his ass and pulling him down to grind slowly into his groin. But it’s instinctual. He doesn’t know what’s okay and what isn’t, and for once in his life he doesn’t want to push the unspoken boundaries to find out. He doesn’t want to scare Steve off.

“Tony, you’re thinking too loudly,” Steve says quietly, dragging his hands back up to rub reassuring circles into Tony’s back. “I think I can hear the gears in your head turning.”

”What, no I’m-I was just thinking,” Tony stalls, leaning back to scratch his dull nails lightly down Steve’s chest. Steve arches into the touch, drawing in a steady breath. “If things are going to get much further past making out we should change locations, don’t you think?” he manages to say with some semblance of seduction in his voice. He almost falls off of Steve’s lap when the other man smiles widely at him, eager and excited. He finds lips on his again, and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck as he’s lifted up and carried through the densely decorated apartment. He laughs as Steve places him carefully on the bed and crawls over him. “Ow, my masculinity.”

“You’ll live, I’m sure,” Steve says distractedly, kissing him again. There’s more than a hint of teeth this time, Tony notes with happy surprise. His hands worm their way under Steve’s shirt, digging into the thick planes of flesh. Steve grinds down into him, readjusting so that he straddles one leg. He licks his way down Tony’s scratchy chin and his neck, sucking a mark into the skin. Tony gasps and throws his head back, clutching Steve to him. Steve grins as he sits up, looking down on Tony with his eyes glazed over and lips red. He tugs at the hem of the ratty tee shirt Tony’s wearing, and he almost slips out of Tony’s lap when he jerks up and rips the shirt up and over his head. Steve laughs as Tony reaches for his shirt too, lifting his arms up to help. As soon as the shirt’s off, Tony hugs Steve to his body. Steve realizes something’s off, Tony’s all stiff and not in the way he should be.

“Um. You know how I mentioned vaguely that I had some heart surgery done a few years ago?”

“Yes?”

“Mm. Yeah. Well, I may have forgotten to mention that the reason I had to have surgery was because of the ah. Injuries I got at a badly timed abduction attempt.”

Steve feels anger roil up uncomfortably in his gut. He tries to suppress it, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good to get overprotective right now. “Okay,” he says with a steady voice.

“There are some pretty bad scars. I don’t want you to be weirded out, is all.” Or worse, pity me, Tony thinks ruefully. The disgust or reluctance to touch the marred skin of his chest, he could handle. But the sad, remorseful look he’d gotten from Pepper was unbearable.

Steve hugs Tony tightly, kissing his shoulder. “I won’t be weirded out. I was in the army for a stint; I’ve seen grosser I promise.” Tony relaxes slightly in his arms, as Steve whispers his promise again. After another moment, Tony falls back down to the bed with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. “Do they…are they sensitive?”

Tony snaps his eyes open, focusing on the ceiling above him. He thinks about how relieved he is that Steve didn’t turn on the lights in the bedroom. “Some, around the edges. Most of it’s numb.” He drops his gaze to the left, focusing on the wooden desk with the antiquated PC and file cabinet. Good god, how old is that thing? Tony should get him a new one. Or hell, find one that he’s forgotten about and stored somewhere in his apartment. Steve couldn’t turn it down if Tony complained it was taking up space and that he would be doing him a favor. Or he could-

Tony is jarred from his rambling thoughts as Steve leans down to place a slow kiss directly over his heart. His bright blue eyes flash up to lock on Tony’s, full of anticipation and concern. “Is that okay? I just…I know that these scars hurt you a lot, and I just…I want to make it better. They’re a part of you. I want all of it. All of you.”

Tony makes an exasperated noise as he slaps a hand to his forehead. “Holy shit, how are you real?” he mumbles. Rubbing his eyes, he groans as Steve licks at the edge of the largest ugly red scar. “It’s fine, just uh. Maybe not tonight? I really can’t handle much more angst. I think my maimed titties can suffer your attentions another time.” Steve laughs loudly, hot breath heating Tony’s bare chest. He presses one last short kiss to Tony’s sternum before stroking a hand lightly down his side and thigh. Without warning he drags it back up Tony’s inner thigh, cupping his erection through the denim.

“I like that you wear jeans when we’re alone now. Feels like you’re making yourself comfortable around me. Not that you don’t look great in those stupidly expensive suits.” He pops the button open and pulls the zipper down slowly. “You just look so much better out of them.”

“No seriously, who are you and what have you done with Steve Rogers?” Tony gasps out, shimmying out of his pants and underwear. “Oh God, you make even rolling your eyes at me look sexy. How-oh fuck,” he moans. Steve mouths the head of Tony’s cock, which has been hard and trapped in denim for the past half hour. Tony leans up to watch him lick and suck up and down his shaft a few times, his fingers scratching along his hip bones and the tendons in his groin. The sight proves to be too much for him, so he just grips Steve’s ludicrously patriotic bedspread in his hands and fights the urge to buck upwards.

Tony whines as Steve pulls away to ask, “Tony, can I fuck you tonight?”

Laughing hysterically, Tony rolls onto his side. “How can you-you just ask something like-Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me, Steve.”  
Steve props his head up on his hands, waiting patiently with a wry expression on his face. “Is that a no?” he asks when Tony’s done laughing.

Tony scrambles over to him, leaning down despite the awkward angle to kiss him. “That’s a hell yes.”

——

The next morning, Tony wakes up warm and comfortable. Steve’s body is curled around his, an arm around his middle. Tony wriggles slightly out of his grasp, reaching for the glass of water on the night stand. He notices his cell phone on the floor, next to his discarded jeans. It blinks up at him, signaling a message.  
He groans as he reaches down for the phone. Steve inhales deeply and tries to pull Tony back to him. Tony complies, snuggling back down with him as he flicks through his messages. Steve feels him tense up in the embrace.

“Tony?”

Tony’s voice is tiny, incredulous. “The patent was rejected. Someone else had already applied for something similar enough to ours. I am going to murder Justin Hammer.”   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase "maimed titties" needs to be used more in everyday conversation.


	8. Naked and Dressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's make-outs, make-ups, and terrible, terrible costumes. I regret nothing.

“Come in Bruce,” Loki greets as the doctor shuffles inside his apartment. “What’s the matter-Bruce?” he asks as he finds himself gripped in a tight embrace and shoved backwards into the opposite wall, his head cushioned by a hand cradling the back of his skull. He fights down the screaming urge to panic, putting his focus on the way Bruce clings to him, with his whole body pressed flush against Loki’s. 

“I really just need…” Bruce gasps out desperately. “I need to not be myself for a bit.” He pushes a leg between Loki’s, who presses down immediately. “Is this okay?”

Loki bites back a moan as he lets his head fall to the side. “It’s more than okay. Go on, Bruce.”

Bruce groans lowly, biting harshly onto Loki’s neck. “Mmf…thank you,” he mumbles into slick skin. “Sometimes, you’re too good to be true.” He starts yanking Loki’s shirt up, dragging calloused fingertips over the smooth, warm skin.

Loki chuckles and wraps his arms around Bruce, pulling him closer. “And you need new material.” Bruce smiles grimly into his shoulder before giving him another mark.

Later, after they somehow made it to Loki’s king size bed (after stopping on the kitchen counter, the dining table, the couch, and the wall in the hallway), Bruce runs his fingers through Loki’s hair as they lay comfortably on each other. They’re both sore and sweaty, but too sated to get up to do anything about it. Bruce hums quietly, and Loki smiles into his chest at the sound.

“And now that you’ve worked whatever agitation you had out of your system, you will lay here and stew in your own thoughts?” Loki muses, his voice rough from exhaustion.

Bruce huffs a few laughs at him. “No, sorry. I’m just…something you said earlier.” He doesn’t explain any more.

“Can I ask what troubles you now? Or will I get jumped again? I wouldn’t mind really, but you’ll have to do all of the work this time, I’m falling asleep.” As if to prove his point, he yawns widely.

“The patent failed. Hammer Industries applied for something similar three days before we did.”

“Oh, Bruce,” Loki begins softly, rubbing his palm up Bruce’s forearm.

He shakes his head before continuing, his eyes focused on the ceiling above them. “I was furious. If Tony had just…if he’d asked for help sooner, he could have been helping me out in the labs more. We could have finished it before Hammer had…had stolen this from us. And I told Tony as much. And he just…I could feel myself about to black out so I just walked out.” He pauses, shifting to sit up. “I hope he doesn’t think I was quitting. Shit, I should let him know-“

Loki curls in on him tighter, holding him down. “Oh, let him squirm for a bit. Let him know in the morning.” Bruce relents, leaning back down onto the far too comfortable bed. “So what was it I said earlier that had you thinking so deeply?”

“Hm? Oh.” He smiles brightly. “The ‘new material’ thing. It…I could make this work, with the right material.” He pauses thoughtfully. “We can fix this. But for now,” he slips an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Sleep,” he says fondly. 

Loki pulls the covers up around them, no more words for him. His brow creases slightly. This could prove troublesome. He hopes against hope that his contract is severed before his employer hears about this. He has grown weary of this engagement.

——

Tony doesn’t look up when he hears the door to the lab beep and open. Leaning his head over his tablet, he concentrates harder on the patent bylaw he’s been studying for the past twenty minutes. He rereads the same line for the sixth time, before flinching at a sound to his right.

“Though you could use this,” Bruce says as he sets a to-go cup from Cap’s Coffee next to the frazzled businessman.

“Hrmmf,” Tony manages. “Thought you were done with uh, this.”

Bruce walks around the table littered with papers, notes, folders and laptops. “Sorry, I…that was mean.” He scrubs at his glasses with a cloth. “But ah, I was busy. While I was gone.”

“I hope you were, abandoning me like that. Three days? Harsh, man,” Tony gripes as he sets the tablet down. “What exactly were you-oh. A report already?” he says as he notices the folder sitting on top of the cup. “God, I missed you,” he mutters.

Bruce smiles briefly. “You know how you weren’t really satisfied with the way a few of the subjects had problems accepting the material? I dug around some more.”

“An entirely new material would let us reapply for the patent,” Tony muses as he flips through the typed pages and chicken scratch notes. “Mm. This could work. The grafts would take a lot quicker too. How did we miss this before now?”

Bruce shrugs, watching Tony carefully. Tony reads through the rest of the research, then looks up to Bruce’s concerned face. “This is good. Great. You’ve saved my ass yet again, doc.” He beams up at his friend. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“My pleasure,” Bruce answers, returning the smile.

Tony claps his hands loudly. “All right. Summon the interns. We’ve got a Justin Hammer to humiliate.”

——

“Captain,” Thor calls out as he strides into the café. It’s a wonder that Steve doesn’t drop the cup in his hand in surprise. “Have you seen my brother?”

“Not lately, no,” Steve answers. He frowns as he thinks about it. “Haven’t seen him for maybe a week.”

“I have not seen him for five days. He has not returned home in that length of time at least, according to Mrs. Finnegan who lives next to him.” Steve takes a good look at the man. His usual smile is absent, worry lines etched deep into his face. His hair is pulled back sloppily, and obviously hasn’t been washed in days. His clothes are rumpled, his shoulders slump forward as if sleep could overtake him any moment. “He has been known to disappear before, but he warns me beforehand. Mostly.”

Steve pats his shoulder, saying warmly. “Hey, maybe he just needs some time away. But if it’s been that long, you could make a police report.”

“Nay.” Thor straightens his back. “My brother would find it annoying that I involved the authorities. I shall merely wait for his return. If you hear any word-“

“You’ll be the first to know,” Steve reassures him. Thor nods gratefully and leaves. Tony greets him briefly as he sweeps past him.

“STEVE!” Tony bellows as he saunters in. Steve watches him warily as he lays himself over the counter. “Steve, it’s fixed! Brucey and I fixed it!” he babbles excitedly. “I asked Fury and he said it would definitely get passed when we reapply, especially after the whole Hammer fiasco, and I can finally sleep!”

“That’s great Tony. I’m really happy for you.”

Tony frowns up at him with confusion. “I hear an unsaid ‘but’ in there.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping now?” Steve says, looking around the café discreetly. He leans down and gives Tony a peck on the forehead. “I mean, I’m glad you came to tell me. But you should-“

“I’m on my way home now,” Tony says brusquely as he stands. “Clint’s got things at the office, Bruce is good at the lab, I just-” He folds his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing. Huh. Why hadn’t he just gone straight home, shot Steve a text or something? He glares down at a tiny gourd on the counter. Blinking rapidly, he picks it up. “What’s with the pumpkin?”

“Decoration,” Steve states.

The silence drags on as Tony stares at the thing. “Wait, is it October? Already? Really?! Christ, I could have sworn it was like July or something.”  
Steve makes an exasperated noise. “Tony, did you really not realize it’s almost Halloween?”

“Yeah. I…when I’m focused on stuff the weeks tend to blur together.” He puts the pumpkin back in its place, staring it down as if it is the reason he somehow lost three months. “When’s Halloween?”

“It’s in two days.”

“Well, I should have a party,” he decides suddenly. “Or something. Would you come if I did have a party?” Tony’s careful to keep his voice even, as if he wouldn’t care much either way.

Steve sees straight through him. “Sure, it’s on a Saturday. I’d be happy to come.”

“Good. Okay. I’m uh, off to grab a few hours-“

“At least eight, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you Mom.” Steve laughs at him. “I’ll let you know the details when I figure them out, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says softly. He leans forward, the corners of his full lips pulled up slightly. Tony grins back at him before meeting him halfway for a goodbye kiss. They linger, lips pushing against each other in a way that had shortly become familiar. “Maybe you can come by tonight?” Steve whispers to Tony’s mouth before ducking back.

“I’d like that,” Tony says softly.

——

Steve explodes into laughter as Tony exits his apartment building wearing a black trench coat and glittering platform heels. His lips smirk at Steve, shining with glaring red lip stick. Bright blue eye shadow mars his eyelids. Clint follows behind him, his lips straining in a way that suggests he’s been laughing at Tony for far too long. He tips the floppy pirate hat on his head to Steve, who has doubled over from the force of his laughter.

”Oh, you’re going to laugh at me? Who are you supposed to be, Abraham Lincoln?”

Steve laughs some more, before straightening back up and adjusting the white scarf around his neck. “George Washington, thank you. What is….what?” he asks, gesturing at Tony’s ensemble. “Are those stockings?!”

“All will be revealed, Cap. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Hey, guys!” Tony calls out, waving happily at a group crossing the street. They all react predictably to Tony’s outfit. Thor claps him on the back in greeting, not even noticing the heels or makeup, while Jane giggles in confusion. Bruce blinks rapidly, biting his lip to keep laughter from bursting from him. Natasha looks him over, sighs, and takes out her phone to snap a picture. Darcy cackles madly.

“Are we doing what I think we’re doing? Please tell me yes.”

“Probably, don’t ruin the surprise though.” She mimes zipping her lips closed. “All right, let’s move team.” They head down the sidewalk, talking about their costumes and where they think Tony’s leading them. Clint knows, Darcy and Bruce have guessed, but the rest of them are in the dark. “What are you anyway?” Tony asks Darcy.

“Sexy DMV worker. Have you renewed your license recently, Mr. Stark?” she asks with an edge to her voice and a wave of a clipboard in his face. Her hair’s pulled back into a bun, the buttons of her tight white blouse undone low into her cleavage. A short black skirt and patent leather pumps complete the look.

“No ma’am, I think you may have to tie me up if you want to get the paperwork done,” he responds with a waggle of his eyebrows. She growls playfully at him. “So Scully, teaming up with the DMV now?”

Natasha smiles at him, squaring her shoulders in the grey blazer she wears. “They have surprisingly good information.” She gives Darcy a private grin, leaning her body close to the other girl’s.

Darcy smiles back at her, before reaching up to swat at the bell around Thor’s neck. “And Thor just wanted to be a cat.”

“And I dance, dance, dance, and I dance, dance, dance!” he agrees loudly, pawing at the air awkwardly and almost sending his cat-eared headband flying off his head. Jane fixes it happily, careful not to smudge Thor with her zombie makeup. Steve watches the blond giant cautiously, noting how his usual grin seems weaker tonight. Loki must still be missing in action then.

Tony nudges Steve with his elbow. “And you thought I looked ridiculous.”

“You do. I don’t even want to know what you’re wearing under the coat.”

“ARRGH!” Clint shouts at Jane comically, waving his plastic sword around. “Pirates be in fashion this season.” Natasha argues that ninjas are far better than pirates, which causes them to both loudly argue the merits of both classes.

Steve tries to gently get them to stop fighting, and almost runs into Tony as he stops abruptly. There’s throng of people in front of them, all dressed eclectically even for Halloween night. As he looks up to see a theater in front of them, he hears Darcy give a squeal of delight. Natasha sighs softly, Bruce barks out a laugh. “Haven’t been to one of these in years,” he muses, adjusting the goggles on his head.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Horrible,” Tony reassures him, ecstatic grin stretching his red lips. “I doubt the show’s changed at all.”

“What is all this?” Steve asks, keeping close to Tony as the line moves swiftly.

“You’ll see. Wait until they make you do the Virgin Dance.”

“The…what?” Tony just grins wider at him. They pay and enter the old fashioned theater, taking a row of seats towards the back.

After a while, a woman in a corset and satin black underwear speaks into a microphone. When she’s done welcoming everyone to the Halloween edition of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, she asks for all newcomers to come to the front. Steve, Natasha, Thor, and Jane move quickly as they’re shoved to their feet. Bruce remains seated, laughing helplessly. Darcy and Tony stand up, catcalling to their friends as they’re wedged in between strangers. Steve’s face is bright red as he presses into Thor’s massive back, who clutches Jane to his front. Natasha takes up the rear, glaring daggers at Clint who tries his best not to squish her. Steve listens carefully to all the instructions, chuckling despite himself.

Before they begin the Virgin Dance, his eyes fly back up the aisles to find Tony has taken off his coat. A red sequined sleeve on one arm reflects the spotlight as it sweeps over him. His tiny black underwear is obscene; the black and purple corset is almost conservative in comparison. Tony leers at him, cocking a hip to the side and waving. Steve shakes his head wide enough to make sure Tony sees the motion.

He’s then distracted by the commencement of his utter and complete humiliation. As one the whole crowd of people gyrate their hips around three times, and then thrust forward suddenly. The motion sends everyone tripping forward a couple of steps. After they make their way back up the aisles, Natasha punches Tony swiftly in the arm. He just giggles weakly, rubbing the spot she hit. “Oh come on Natasha, everyone has to do it!”

“I reserve the right to hit you one more time for not warning me about this idiocy,” she growls, leaning back in her seat. Darcy plops herself down in Natasha’s lap, a beer in one hand and the other around the other girl’s shoulders. The movie shows on a screen behind a short stage while a group of actors reenact the plot in front of it. Steve looks around in confusion as the majority of the crowd begins shouting an entire script of responses to the movie. Bruce tries to keep up but it has obviously been a while. Tony, however, is yelling obscenities along with the loudest viewers. Darcy is too busy necking with Natasha to contribute.

“And we haven’t even encountered the Naked Run yet,” Bruce muses. Tony guffaws at the way Steve looks to him with honest fear on his face. 

——

Late that night (or early the next day depending on the point of view) Steve shifts in his sleep. The whole group had gone back to Tony’s after the show, buzzed from cheap beer at the show and eager to enjoy the rest of the night. Surprisingly, they don’t drink much. Tony was purposefully putting water bottles and Coke cans within reach of his guests, producing alcohol only on request. Several rounds of Just Dance had proven hilarious, and exhausting. Natasha and Darcy were wrapped around each other on the couch, Bruce had curled up on the love seat, Clint was passed out under the dining room table, and Thor and Jane were hidden away in the guest room. Snores rumble through the apartment now, and the thought that he’s not alone in this place warms something long forgotten in Steve’s heart.

He reaches out, groping for Tony. Squinting his eyes open, the light emanating from Tony’s chest blinds him. He makes a small noise, and Tony looks up from his phone in surprise. A little eyeliner remains around his eyes, sharpening the way the corners of his eyes squint when he smiles down at Steve.

“Sorry,” he whispers. Leaning down, he gives Steve a soft kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve hums in agreement, moving into the warm space that Tony leaves behind. He falls back asleep immediately. Hours slip by before he wakes up.

“Steve,” Clint says loudly, shaking his shoulder.

Steve jerks awake, sitting up quickly. Tony’s not in bed, he finds. Clint leans away from him, avoiding his eyes and eyebrows drawn tight in worry. “What’s wrong?” Clint’s jaw twitches, glancing at Steve apologetically. “Where’s Tony?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted them to do something different for Halloween, so I figured what better thing for Tony to do than drag them all to a Rocky show. And then I leave you all with a terrible cliffhanger. AHAHAHA. Thanks as always for reading and the wonderful comments! I feel so loved.


	9. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot plot plot. Tony gets threatened. Clint gets hysterical. Coulson appears.

Groaning, Tony shivers as he wakes up. “And the award for worst hangover ever goes to…” He tries to rub his eyes with one hand, but both hands come up. He looks at them, finding his wrists tied together with zip ties. “Hm.” Tony’s sharp eyes fly around him. He is definitely not in his bedroom. A flash of pain resonates through his skull, and he remembers getting a bunch of texts from Loki last night. 

“You’re awake, finally,” says a voice somewhere above him. The muzzle of a hand gun shoves against his temple. “If you’re smart you’ll stay down. No tricks, no games, understand me?” the woman says sharply.

“Wow, gotta love a woman who can kick my ass,” he says, irrepressibly. Tony flashes a grin. “Say, you’re not Jessica Drew, are you? Loved you in Wundergore, so underrated.”

She doesn’t laugh. “You’re telling me. Now you’ll shut up or you’ll nap some more.” She pauses, testing him. Tony bites down on his tongue to keep from complaining against not getting to cuddle with someone before napping. “You are capable of shutting your mouth once in a while, would you look at that.” The gun backs off a couple of inches, staying firmly in Tony’s sight. “Now then. Here’s what we are going to do. We’re going to your lab and collecting all of the data for your new patent application. I mean every single Post-It note hanging around your piece of shit building, every note scribbled on a napkin, e-mails, everything. We’re going to get it all together, and then trash it. And you’re going to forget about it and pay off your employees until they forget about it. And if you cooperate,” Jessica looks down on him emotionlessly, “you get to live to see that pretty boy of yours again. If you don’t, if you try to make this difficult at all, I won’t hesitate to make you regret it. Understood?”

Tony grimaces, trying not to think about how Steve would look standing at his funeral. “Hm. Tempting offer.” He looks her over, looks over the grunt standing behind her. No gun on him, just a taser. “See, here’s the thing. I’d actually like to uh,” he clears his throat quietly, “live. So let’s get this over, with shall we?”

She smiles down at him. “Thinking your precious Banner will be able to save this project?” She holds up what is unmistakably Bruce’s tablet. The crack in the corner and smudges of chocolate cannot be a coincidence. “It seems that his house has been trashed. His TV, iPod, PC, and tablet are all gone. The vandals also took knives to a pile of notes in his office. How unfortunate.” She puts the tablet back into a crate, marked on the front with a round symbol of tentacles curling around each other. Tony quickly files the emblem away in his brain. It wasn’t familiar, but when he got out of this, it may be useful.

“Well, damn,” he wheezes, rubbing his face in agitation. “Fucking thought of everything haven’t you? Fuck you lady, I don’t care who you’re working for I refuse to let you take this from me.” Tony shifts slightly to glare up at her fully. Before he can start yelling at her, the barrel of the gun buries into his shoulder painfully.

“You misunderstand me,” Jessica says calmly, twisting the gun sharply as she leans over his prone body. “I don’t care if I have to drag you bleeding and barely conscious into your building to get what I’ve come for. I don’t care if I have to start taking those fingers of yours, until you have to scratch your own ass with a fucking stump.” Tony freezes up, his breath locked in his lungs. “I will get what I’ve come for. And exactly how this happens is up to you, Stark. No skin off my teeth, I’m getting paid by the hour. So decide.” Tony lets a pained gasp escape him as the gun digs into his shoulder harder. He sees her grip change, her pointer finger straightening and laying on the trigger on the edge of his vision. “Feel like walking, or do we have to drag you?”

He trains his fearful expression slowly into one of unflappable neutrality. “It’s a good night for a walk,” he says offhandedly. Jessica grins down at him, and he represses a shudder.

——

“Explain the situation, Loki,” Thor rumbles, remarkably quiet. He looks away from his brother and paces to the kitchen. Loki glares at the carpet between his feet, not wincing as Clint applies a band-aid to a cut on his face. Steve watches him from where he sits in the armchair next to the couch they occupy. Darcy and Jane left earlier, realizing they’d be in the way. Bruce is in the bathroom, calming himself down after hearing Loki’s story the first time. Natasha is in the guest bedroom, making a call.

Gripping the arms of the chair to the point of almost ripping into the leather, Steve tries to be patient. Finally, Loki breathes shallowly and begins. “I have been working for a group known as Hydra. They pay well for anyone who is skilled at getting information and manipulating people. Originally, I was to dig Stark for details on his heart replacement device, but I knew he would never trust me enough to talk about his work in the detail required.” As Loki talks in his unwavering tone, Steve thinks about the number of times he’s seen Bruce with him. How happy Bruce had seemed.

“So you went for Bruce?” Steve asks incredulously.

Loki spares him an angry glance before looking back down. “Yes. He seemed the obvious target. I found out all that I could, told them what they needed and…I intended to end things there. Leave town for a year or so, come back when,” he pauses, correcting himself before saying the wrong name, “Banner would have had enough time to pretend we had never been together. But then I somehow helped him fix the problem I had created. And I was to find out what he had done, before he and Stark finished fixing it. I didn’t have enough time, or incentive. I was blamed.” His jaw clenches, the muscles under a bruise twitching. “They beat me and are refusing to pay me my due,” he growls, glaring upwards. “I will not be cheated like this. I came to Tony to get my revenge. I’m no fool; I’ve been recording all of my communications for just such an occasion. I called him and asked him to meet me outside the building, promising to help him take Justin Hammer down.”

"What does Hammer have to do with this?"

Loki nearly rolls his eyes. "He's the one paying Hydra to undermine all of Stark Industries' newest projects. He fears his already shaky standing in the industry will be lost."

"Right,” Steve bites out, running a hand through his hair. “I guess they expected this, and snatched him up.”

Loki nods rigidly. “I…I cannot stand that I did not see this coming. Drew is a better tactician than I assumed. I am sorry this happened. It was not my intent.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Natasha asks slowly, forcing herself calm as she comes back into the living room.

Loki stands and shouts at her, “Because, if I had meant for this to happen, I would have left when Tony was taken. Why would I call Bruce and reveal what I have done? Out of the goodness of my heart?!” He barks out a bitter laugh. “No, I desire revenge. I am the only one with the evidence to bring Hydra into the light, and Stark is the only one who would help me in such a venture.”

Natasha glares at him, fighting not to step forward and knock that sneer off of Loki’s face. “Do you know their next move?”

“No! I stupidly tried to end my contract before they’d let me in on their back-up plans.”

“Hydra’s definitely one for back-up plans,” Steve mutters, glaring at some point on the opposite wall. After a few moments, he notices the silence. He looks around, finding everyone staring at him in surprise. Except for Natasha, who glowers at him in disappointment. “Oh. I said that out loud, didn’t I?” he whispers.

“How the fuck do you know Hydra?!” Clint yells hysterically.

Steve shifts around in his seat uncomfortably. “They’re the reason I had to leave New York. They…they were screwing up everything there; my school, my friends, my family.” Bucky, he doesn’t say. “I was trying to fight them, to get them to leave us alone, but I was just a dumb kid. I had no idea what I was trying to fight. My grandma came and offered to let me live with her here and go to college nearby. I’ve been here ever since,” he finishes lamely.

“Is there anything else anyone needs to say?” Clint asks, slamming the first aid kit closed. “Natasha, are you actually a robot? Is Bruce secretly a government sponsored human weapon? Thor you can totally summon thunder right? No?! Okay then!” He gets up, making for the door. “We’re going to the police. I don’t give a shit what anyone says, the police will help-oh good God no,” he trails off as he yanks the door open to reveal someone standing on the other side.

“That won’t do any good, Barton,” says the smartly dressed man who stands with his arms behind his back and a neutral expression on his face. “You should remember that the first group Hydra buys off is the local police.”

“Which is why I called him instead of 911,” Natasha says.

“Who is he?” Bruce asks, finally emerging from the bathroom to lean curiously around Clint’s stock still body.

“He,” Clint grumbles, “is a fucking nightmare.”

Phil Coulson smiles briefly at him. “Good to know you still hold me in such high esteem.”

——

“Hm. I think I left some notes on that one,” Tony gestures vaguely at the row of desktops across from him. The grunt glares at him.

“Which one?”

Squinting, Tony appears to think deeply on the matter. “Mmmm. Good question. Let’s turn them all on and check every single one, just to be safe.” The grunt grunts and moves to do as he’s told. Drew and the other two lackeys are in the main lab, sweeping through every drawer and every folder. Tony and Grunt are alone in the side office, a strictly utilitarian room with a multitude of computers, scanners, readers, and a long couch that probably has Tony’s shape imprinted on it. He couldn’t say how many times he’s passed out in here. Or initiated ill-advised make-out sessions on that same couch. The best thing about this room?

The solid wooden door-which has no window-is shut at the moment. Tony grins maliciously as he watches the brute rip efficiently through files and hidden folders and finds Tony’s personal server. He hops down from the desk that he was sitting on loudly. “No, look you missed something.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll find it,” his companion grumbles.

Tony’s sneakers squeak on the tiles as he advances. “No, really, I just remembered I hid some of it from myself. I called it something really dumb, encrypted it too.”

“Last warning, get back.”

Tony glares at the screen, leaning over the guy. “I just want to get this over with I’m sure you can und—-sshheeeeeee!” he shrieks. His body drops to the floor, his right hand clamping on his left bicep. He chokes for breath, blinking blindly and curling in on himself. His head is an echo of his rapid heartbeat, thudding painfully in his skull.

“I warned you,” Grunt says unapologetically as he puts his stun gun back in its holster.

——

Tony’s apartment is awash with quick-moving men and women all wearing variations of the same navy blue suit. WLANs have been set up, security feeds have been hacked into, phone calls have been traced, but they’ve all led to dead ends. No one has any clue where Tony is. One of the suited operatives even hacks into the security feed of Stark Industries and finds nothing but empty labs and halls. Clint stands in the kitchen, clutching a mug of instant coffee to his chest, glaring at all and sundry. Natasha comes in and takes a box of (Steve’s favorite) tea down from the cabinet.

“You should stop glaring at your old coworkers and go help them,” she says coldly as she finds a clean mug.

“Yeah right. I left this shit behind me. For a fucking reason,” Clint growls.

The red head just shrugs at him. “It’s no one’s fault. You couldn’t have prevented this. Even though I warned you, you couldn’t have stopped Loki from rabbiting and trying to involve Stark.” He glares down at the floor. “Don’t blame yourself, Barton,” she says quietly. “Focus on finding him.”

She walks back out into the living room, leaning over a laptop and asking someone a sharp question. Clint watches her, and can’t help but know she’s right. Even with all his training, his knowledge, he would never have guessed Loki was the one feeding Hammer information or that he would eventually turn to the people he ripped off to help his revenge. It does little to assuage the burning anger that he holds close to him. Tony’s a good man, no matter what he has to say about himself. Clint left S.H.I.E.L.D. in the hopes that he could work closer with Tony and avoid the self-destructive way the agency tried to conduct its business.

Huffing laughter, Clint realizes the true meaning of Natasha’s words. If he’s too busy angsting he’ll never be able to help anyone. He pushes himself off of the counter, and turns as he hears Bruce make a small noise from the kitchen counter where he’s set up with his laptop.

“What’s up, Banner?”

Bruce takes a moment to answer, glaring at his cell phone. “When Tony asked me to help improve on his valve replacement, we worked on a tracking device. Something that would go off when the attending physician-me-would be required to be near.” Bruce stares at his phone for another moment. “The tracker’s just gone off. Tony’s at SI. He’s just been tased, if the outputs are anything to go by.” Bruce stands and looks to Clint, fear in his eyes. “We need to move. We need to move now.”

Clint swallows, slams his mug on a counter, and shouts for Agent Coulson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Jessica Drew! How I hope to someday see her on the big screen. GET ON IT MARVEL.


	10. Fire and Smoke

Tony gasps as he regains consciousness. His arm burns where the stun gun had hit him, and his entire body is sore and difficult to move. But his heart is what concerns him most. Its rapid, arrhythmic tattoo against his sternum makes him feel dizzy even lying down. He coughs painfully, tasting smoke and curling in on himself as he lies on the cold ground. His only comfort is that the acid burn and subsequent stabbing years ago had hurt maybe eight times more. He can deal with this, he can, as soon as his heart calms the fuck down and he stops having hot flashes like a menopausal-wait, smoke?

Blinking, he looks around. He can see smoke slipping in from the doorway to the main lab, and the computer monitors above him reflect the orange light of fire. “Seriously?” he mumbles, his mouth not working right. “Set my shit on fire; see if I ever watch another Jessica Drew film.” Hissing in agony, Tony rolls over onto his stomach and pulls his knees under his body. His arms shake as he pushes himself up on all fours. His chest feels like it’s been torn open (again). He sits back on his heels and takes stock of his condition.

They’d taken the zip ties off his wrists, and dumped a few empty gin bottles around. “Oh that’s just low,” Tony whines. They were trying to make it look like he had drunkenly tried to get some work done, started a fire and passed out; get rid of him and any evidence that they’d been there at the same time. He shoves himself to his feet and stumbles into the nearest table. He needs to get out of here. They must have deactivated the sprinkler system and fucked with his security, which pisses him off even more. He takes an unsteady step towards the door and lets go of the desk to grab at the door frame. His hand swipes at empty air and he falls to the ground. Hard.

——

Natasha drives like a pro, swerving around corners and speeding through yellow lights. Steve grips the handle above the window in a white-knuckled fist, and he’s pretty sure Bruce, Clint, and Coulson are crowded on top of each other in the back. A caravan of cars and vans follow them, Loki and Thor in one of the vehicles. 

“Natasha, what is all this? Who are all these people?”

He sees her face tense out of the corner of his eye. “Steve, I’ve come to trust you during the time we’ve worked together. That’s…a big deal for someone like me. And I like to think that you trust me. Right now, I need you to trust me enough to believe me when I say that I will explain everything once this is over. But we both need to focus on finding Tony and-“

Sirens wail somewhere behind them. Natasha floors it. Within moments, they’re screeching to a stop in front of Stark Tower. Smoke billows from windows about twenty feet up. They all pile out of the car, Coulson looking completely unruffled as Bruce and Clint extricate their limbs from one another. Bruce runs forward, sliding his keycard gain access to the building. A couple of agents hold open the doors as the rest pile in, only to be shoved aside by Steve and Clint. Natasha is right on their heels, a Beretta in her hand. They enter the stairwell, Clint eying up the middle of it and motioning for silence. They hold for a minute, listening. 

Satisfied that it’s empty, they begin jogging up the stairs. “Fourteenth floor,” Clint says.

Suddenly Natasha stops and leans over the handrail, gun first. The others freeze and watch her carefully. She’d heard a door opening under them. Thor glares up confusedly at the gun pointed at him. She pulls it back, with a muttered “Come on.” He thunders up behind them. Minutes later, Clint pushes open the door to the fourteenth floor slowly, controlling his breath. Natasha slides out into the hallway, head and gun whipping one way and then the other. She nods down at him and Clint walks out, heading for the main lab. Smoke is lingering lazily on the ceiling. He finds the door and rattles the handle. “Locked,” Natasha states helpfully.

“No shit,” Clint mutters as he reaches for his wallet and the key card stored there. Before he can pull it out of his pocket, Steve yanks him backwards. Thor lunges forward, slamming bodily into the door. The wood splinters and the metal of the door handle pings as it flies off down the hallway. He stumbles inside the lab, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself. Smoke blinds them all for a moment. As Clint walks into the lab, he almost trips over Natasha who crawls swiftly on the ground.

“Here, he’s conscious.” They all center in on her voice, stooping under the worst of the smoke. Tony blinks blearily up at them, clasping a fire extinguisher to him. There’s foam everywhere, but not a flame in sight.

“Hey guys. Wouldn’t this be so much more awful if we were all hungover?” he wheezes. No one answers as they each grab a part of his body to drag him out of the lab. “Ow ow ow, be gentle Cap, I’m not that type of girl!” he whines. They lug him into the hallway, where Bruce is walking quickly, ahead of a group of firefighters. “Hey big guy,” Tony coughs.

“Shut up,” Bruce commands as he takes an oxygen mask from one of the firefighters and shoves it on Tony’s face. He presses his fingers into Tony’s throat gently, looking down at his watch. Steve watches warily from where he crouches next to them. Bruce takes a plastic case out of his messenger bag and rolls up the sleeve of Tony’s sweatshirt. From the case, he takes a packaged syringe and a vial of clear liquid. “Here,” he says, handing an alcohol pad to Steve. “Clean this area.” He draws a small circle in the crease of Tony’s elbow with a finger before prepping the syringe.

Steve rips open the paper packaging and begins scrubbing at the area Bruce indicated. He hears Tony’s muffled voice and drags his eyes up to his face. “I thought Bruce told you to shut up,” he murmurs.

Tony rolls his eyes and reaches up to pull the mask away from his face. “Just wanted to say sorry for all this bullshit. Should have seen it coming, never trust Loki again-“ Steve cuts him off by pushing the mask back over his mouth.

“Loki came up and told us what happened. All of it.” Steve curls his fingers around Tony’s as Bruce waves him away from his arm.

“Ready, Tony?” Bruce asks, without looking up. He pushes the needle in and Steve feels Tony’s fingers twitch only slightly. A moment later, he pulls away and puts a cap on the syringe and it goes back into the case. “It’s a sedative, put him in a deep sleep so his heart can recuperate,” the doctor explains as he applies pressure and a cotton ball to the tiny dot of blood. “Anything else happen Tony? Anything we should be worried about?” Tony shakes his head decisively, then winces. Bruce reaches for the back of his head immediately. “Nice knot back there. That’s important Tony, remember when I told you concussions were important?” he says with a sigh. Tony glares at him, mumbling into the mask. “I know you’re not concussed, but say something next time before I pump you full of tranquilizers.”

Paramedics finally arrive, and Tony groans loudly at the sight of the stretcher they carry. But Steve can see he’s already succumbing from the medicine, his eyelids lowering and his grip on Steve’s fingers loosening. Steve gives him a squeeze. “You’ll probably be out before they carry you out, don’t be such a baby.” Tony’s mouth quirks up at that, before he finally stops fighting the sedative and falls asleep.

Bruce puts his things back in his bag. “He’ll be fine. I was worried that the artificial parts would have been completely shorted out by the stun gun, but his heart rate’s returning to normal. He’ll need a lot of rest, which he isn’t going to like.” The paramedics swoop in, pushing Steve out of the way. Bruce answers the flurry of questions they throw at him. Steve can’t hear any of it, blood is rushing in his ears as they manhandle Tony onto the stretcher. He knows that Tony’s just unconscious, but the way his limbs are limp and his mouth is slack makes some horrible despair tighten around his heart.

He startles as he feels a large hand clap down on his shoulder. Turning, Steve sees Thor smiling encouragingly at him. Natasha spares him a quick smile of her own before returning to her usual blank expression. Clint rubs the back of his neck before saying, “Well. That was uh. Am I the only one pissed that we found Tony in his own goddamn tower?”

They blame the stress for the way they all broke into uncontrollable laughter until the firefighters demanded they leave the still smoking building.

——

Tony slowly drifts back to consciousness. His brain fuzzily recognizes Natasha’s voice somewhere to his left. “We checked the security feeds at the Tower after Hydra already had hacked into the system. The looped footage made it seem like nothing was unusual. The same virus that did this cut off the fire suppression systems and would appear to be a low-threat virus that someone downloaded accidentally from the main lab. The fire was started and the bottles of alcohol were planted to incriminate Stark and possibly eliminate him. They left immediately, and we have nothing to link them to the scene except Stark’s testimony, and Odinson’s if we can convince him.”

“Very good, Romanoff. Make sure you have the report compiled by Tuesday.” Tony comes fully awake at this voice. Fuck no, he is not going to deal with this asshole today.

“Yes sir.”

Tony hears light footsteps leaving the room, and shifts slightly. He concentrates on keeping his breath even and deep. For a moment, he congratulates himself on his award-winning acting skills.

“Stark, cut the act.”

“Shit, can’t get away with anything can I?” he grumbles as he blinks his eyes open. “Oh God, I’m in the hospital.” He glares hatefully at the clean white walls and tiles and curtains. He turns his loathing look on the impassive man seated next to the bed. “Why are you back in my life Coulson? I thought we’d broken up.”

“You walked away from what S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer you. How’s that lone wolf thing working out for you, by the way?” Tony almost shouts in pain as he tries to sit up, but bites the noise short. Coulson grins briefly. “Not too well, I imagine.”

“I do not need some government-funded nannies tripping up my business. I’ve got it handled. Bruce was the only reason you guys found me. I know it.”

“You could have died. You had no idea that the stun gun would merely trip Banner’s transmitter, and not short it out entirely.”

“I wired this thing myself, I knew it wouldn’t-“

“Did you know? Or did you just hope?” Coulson asks flatly. “Stark Industries, and you, have a lot to offer the world. The tech you’re working on will change the way people receive medical help for the better. But that’s all a waste if you get killed in the process.” Tony stares at the ceiling, unable to tell the man he’s wrong. “Just let us help you. That’s all S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to do.”

“Look, I…I’ll think about it. Can I just recover from this ordeal in peace?” Tony says quietly.

“Of course. I’ll have agents on standby, in case you need something.” Coulson stands, giving Tony that same cold look he always does. But-now that Tony’s looking closely-it doesn’t look cold so much as concerned. “Get well, Stark.”

“Mm.” Tony settles back into the pillows gingerly. His chest aches like he’s missing a chunk of it. He tries not to think about where Steve is right now.

——

Bruce looks up as the door to the conference room opens. In the sparse lighting, he watches an agent lead Loki in and deposit him in the chair across the table from the doctor. “Ten minutes,” he says gruffly before leaving the dim room. Loki looks down at the table, his hands clasped in his lap. Bruce stares at him, taking in the pale color of his face, the bags under his eyes and the dark but fading bruise on his jaw. His eyes trace down Loki’s slumped shoulders, and then he has to look away. The way Loki’s chest rises and falls so shallowly makes Bruce want to reach out to him, envelope him in his arms.

“Why?”

Loki flinches at the quiet word. “I needed the money. I-“

“Why?” Bruce insists.

“Why what?” Loki cries, panic in his voice. “What do you want to hear, Bruce?!”

“The truth. I don’t care why you copied the files from my computer, or why you walked up to me that day in the café. I don’t care why you kept bothering me about my work as if you gave a damn. I need to know why,” he says with a thick voice, “why you would tell me about growing up in Norway. Why I know about your horses and the dogs and that girl you and Thor fought over. Why you know about Harlem and Betty and the things I did in the army. Why did you care about all that, if you just needed information from me?”

Loki finally looks up to meet Bruce’s searching gaze. “I didn’t mean to,” he answers quietly. “But I felt like you wouldn’t trust me otherwise. I usually make up stories for this purpose. But with you, and your close proximity to Stark and my brother, you could have found me out for my lies. The truth was easier to tell you-in more than one way. You just…you accepted all the things I told you with such grace. All the sob stories, all the violence; and it didn’t even occur to you to judge me for it.” Loki closes his eyes, hanging his head again. “I was angry at you, for a while. For being so…accepting. For not letting your anger take control of your actions. For being you, and expecting me to be me. Even when I had no idea who I was. Who I am.”

Bruce doesn’t think when he jumps to his feet. One hand supports his weight on the tabletop, the other grabs Loki’s chin to lift his face. Loki’s eyes widen with something akin to fear. Bruce kisses him harshly, lips pulling and teeth nipping. Loki responds for a moment, his eyelids sliding shut. Without warning, he yanks his head out of Bruce’s grasp. “You fool. You can’t actually forgive me for this.”

“I can,” Bruce says, his fingers tracing up Loki’s neck and back down to the nape of his neck.

“After everything that happened? Tony’s near-death, the loss of your second patent, the lab fire-ah!” He gasps as Bruce wraps his hand into Loki’s hair.

“Maybe not right now. Maybe not entirely, but I know that we can work this out. I know that you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

Loki smirks, his bright green eyes glinting with familiar mischief. “You put a lot of faith in me, Bruce. How do you know I won’t betray you again,” he says silkily, letting his head loll back into Bruce’s grip. “I am a creature of habit, after all.”

Bruce pulls him forward, whispering into the air above his mouth, “Stop trying to force me away. It’s not going to work. I’m pretty stubborn, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re not getting rid of me now, Loki.”

“Idiot,” Loki moans endearingly before angling his lips up to meet Bruce’s.  
 


	11. Goodbyes and Hellos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusions! Ends being tied up! WOO!

Tony fiddles with his cell phone as the elevator takes him down through the hospital. Finally, after a week of badgering every person sent to take care of him and aggravating all his visitors, Tony’s checking himself out. He doesn’t pay any attention as the doors open and someone tall and wearing clacking high heels gets in the elevator with him.

“Wow, you just don’t give a fuck, do you?” Tony’s eyes fly up and widen as he realizes Jessica Drew is standing next to him. She smiles wryly, pulling frameless sunglasses off her face. She cocks her hip and crosses her arms. “How are you still alive? You have no survival instincts.”

“Uh. I pay people to do that. They’re just not here right now. You’re not going to beat me up again are you? I think I’d rather you wait until I get home, so I can enjoy some taste of freedom from this place,” he babbles nervously.

“Oh calm down Stark. I just wanted to let you know that we just happened to miss that one encrypted back-up directory. The one called ‘Cap’s Ass.’ You still have all your data. My employer will be pissed with me, but my other employer will be thrilled.”

Tony glares at her for a moment before making some unintelligible noise. “Are you kidding me? S.H.I.E.L.D. has double agents? Really? God, someone needs to tell those glorified bodyguards that they’re playing this secret agent shit a little too seriously.”

Jessica shoots him a grin, and he shuts his mouth. “If you tell anyone about this-I mean anyone-I’ll end you in the worst, most publicly humiliating way possible. Got it?”

“What if I say it while I’m drunk? Will I still be held accountable?”

“Even more so,” she promises as the elevator stops on the ground floor. She walks out and then down a hallway, going deeper into the hospital while tying up her long black hair.

“Nice seeing you again,” Tony mutters spitefully as he makes his way to the desk in the main lobby. His face brightens when he sees Steve sitting in a ridiculously tiny plastic chair, a fruit basket in his lap. A little girl sits in the next chair, on her knees and turned towards Steve who listens intently as she talks and waves around a superhero figure of some kind. Tony stands still and watches the way Steve interacts with the girl, over-enthusiastic but genuine, asking her things and nodding seriously. She says something while waggling the doll in his face, and he slaps a palm to his forehead. A smile works its way across Tony’s face, before he turns to the receptionist.

After signing his name and information to a few different forms (why the hell hadn’t he thought to request an assistant to come do all this shit for him?) Tony turns to find Steve standing right behind him, smiling uncertainly. “Hey stranger. Long time no see.”

“Oh don’t even,” Steve says, dropping his smile. “I was here every day.” He stoops a bit to peck Tony quickly on the lips. “And I’m impressed none of the staff smothered you in your sleep. Congrats on making it out alive.”

“Oh, they loved me, really,” Tony lies. “So, we’re leaving now right? I would love to find a shower and get rid of the smell of hand sanitizer and death.” They make for the door, Steve staying closer by Tony’s side than he normally would.

“Hm. I should join you,” Steve says abruptly. Tony almost trips over his own feet, but Steve grabs for his shoulder immediately. “Look at that, clearly you need the help.”

“You…are secretly an evil mastermind aren’t you?”

Steve smiles secretly as he hails a taxi. “If I tell you that I’ll have to-Tony!“ he shouts suddenly as a car screeches up to the curb. Steve throws his arm across Tony’s chest, making him back up as the taller man jumps in front of him. The car stops just in front of them.

As they stand in shock, the driver’s side door opens up and a familiar redhead steps out. She looks them over, as if she hadn’t almost run them over seconds before. “Need a ride, boys?”

Tony recovers first. “Where do you get off calling us ‘boys?’ We’re quite clearly rugged men.” Natasha rolls her eyes and gets back in the car. Steve makes sure Tony gets in the backseat without incident, then takes the front seat. He immediately berates the young woman for driving so dangerously.

“You wanted to know about S.H.I.E.L.D. right?” she says, ignoring him. Steve snaps his jaw shut, seatbelt pulled out in front of him. He clicks it into place as Natasha begins. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is an agency that specializes in protecting and observing individuals who are potential security threats or benefits to the nation. I ran around with a bad crowd when I was younger. Got involved in some pretty high end things. I came up on their list as a threat. They offered me a job or a cell.” She pauses, pulling out into traffic. “I was detailed to observe you.”

“I told Coulson I didn’t want a damn nanny,” Tony whines from the backseat, where he has his face plastered against the window and stares out at the passing buildings balefully.

“Not you, Stark. Steve is my assignment.”

“Me?”

“They saw what happened in Brooklyn. We wanted to make sure Hydra kept their claws off of you. You’ve been shadowed for the past ten years, but I’m the only agent who got this close to you. When you opened up the shop, I intended to just come in check the security on the place.”

“That night that I found you breaking into my store?”

She smiles gently. “Yes. And I fed you a sob story about student loans and broke parents and you offered me a job. I was mostly surprised into saying yes. Coulson was furious with my mess-up, but he gave me authority to continue undercover. And unexpectedly, I actually enjoyed working with you.” Steve smiles back at her. Tony chews on his lip to keep himself quiet and not ruin the moment for them.

“So, your cover’s blown now. Will they reassign you?” Steve asks, disappointment softening his voice

Natasha’s voice becomes sharper, as if she regrets having to tell him. “Most likely. This assignment’s known at the agency as the rookie breaker. It’s an easy job, or it was before you got involved with Stark.” Tony huffs like the brat he is. “I’ll be put on a desk job until I’m of age for the regular roster,” she finishes with a light tone.

“Of age?” Tony bursts, taking the bait. “How old are you?”

“It’s impolite to ask a lady her age, Stark. But just for what will surely be a scandalized expression, I’m seventeen.”

“SEVENTEEN?!” he shouts, looking every bit as scandalized as Natasha predicted. She laughs shortly at him, sparing Steve a sideways look. He’s shaking his head slightly, smiling. He really hopes she’s lying, but he looks impressed nonetheless. Natasha feels pride surge through her. With a squeal of tires, she pulls up to the curb in front of Tony’s apartment.

Steve makes a small noise. “Geeze, I let a seventeen year old drink vodka. Twice!”

“That is far from the worst thing I’ve ever done, Rogers. Don’t let it bother you. Also, don’t get out yet.” He looks to her questioningly, but finds her gaze staring at the entrance to Tony’s building.

“Wait,” Tony says finally. “Shit. Really?” He looks away from the window.

Turning, Steve sees a tall woman with light red hair, perfectly pressed clothes, and shiny heels standing at the door. She looks angrier than Steve’s ever seen anyone that gorgeous look. “Who is that?”

“That,” Tony says mournfully, “is the ex. Also possibly my future murderer, take note.” He shoves himself up and out of the car. Steve sits, frozen by indecision. Should he come with? Should he just get out to hug Tony and make sure that he doesn’t get beaten on the spot? Tony helps him out by tapping on his window, which he rolls down immediately. Tony leans his face down, smiling encouragingly. “Don’t worry too much, she’s just going to yell at me about keeping myself safe until my ears bleed. Same old Pepper, but maybe I can convince her to stay in town; we’ll go out for lunch or something. She’d like you.” Tony angles his head, clearly asking for a kiss. Steve lets out a breath in relief and fulfills the request.

——

Sighing, Loki turns up the music on his stereo with a remote. He lays strewn across his couch, half under a blanket. His cell phone is in parts on the coffee table, his door is locked, and his laptop is destroyed and buried under some torn clothes in his room. He grimaces as he realizes he can still faintly hear the thudding sound of someone’s fists on his door over the rolling sounds of Beethoven’s Ninth. He rolls over on his side, wrapping a blanket tighter around his body and a pillow over his ears. The pillow feels rough against the stubble on his cheek, and he whimpers at the sensation.  
Why couldn’t he just be left alone? He told those S.H.I.E.L.D. idiots that he had no desire to assist them, and since Hydra had completely wrecked all of his carefully gathered and hidden evidence he was of no use to them. His brief scheme for revenge and possibly doing the right thing had ended horribly. He wants no part of any crowd now-Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D., Stark Industries, the small group of friends that Bruce told him over and over would be there for him if he’d just let them.

Loki just wants to be left alone.

“Loki,” says a soft, familiar voice. The music is quieter now, he hadn’t noticed. The pillow is pulled gently out of his clenched hands.

“Bruce, I do not wish to speak to my brother. Kindly leave and take him with you.”

“It’s been two weeks. Tony’s out of the hospital, the Tower’s been cleaned up, and Natasha said that Hydra took off once they heard S.H.I.E.L.D. knew they were here.” Bruce rubs his hand gently up and down Loki’s tense back, while sitting on the coffee table to keep some distance between himself and the younger man. “Thor’s worried sick about you. I may just lend him my spare key and let you deal with him next time.”

Loki doesn’t say anything for a while. “I do not wish to speak to him. What would I say? I’m sorry I’m not the person he thought I was?” he asks in a strained voice. “I’m sorry Father was right about me all along, that I’ll only rain sorrows on his head if he stays near me?” Bruce pauses his hand, gripping Loki’s shoulder. “I can’t. I can’t see how disappointed he must be in me. After all that he’s done for me. I can’t just say ‘sorry’ and expect him to not be hurt by all this.”

“He’s hurt more by you hiding from him. Talk to him, Loki. He’s just worried about you.” Bruce leans down to plant a soft kiss on Loki’s temple. He gets up, leaving a swiftly cooling warm spot on Loki’s shoulder. Loki resigns himself to another long, lonely night before he realizes Bruce hasn’t left. He’s walked down the hallway, judging by the sound of his footsteps. Loki pushes himself up to watch as Bruce goes into his bedroom, closing the door quietly.

“Loki?” comes a surprisingly quiet voice from the kitchen. Loki flinches, before laying his head back down on the couch. “I would talk with you.”

“Well I would not. Leave, I have no energy to deal with your patronizing today.”

Thor walks towards him slowly. “If I have ever seemed to patronize you, I apologize. I did not mean-“

“You’re apologizing?! To me?!” Loki barks out. Thor takes a few steps back, retreating to the kitchen entrance. “You are ridiculous-after the things I’ve done, you’re the one apologizing to me?” He sits up at last, looking his brother over. Thor’s hair is greasy and tangled; his clothes are rumpled and stained. The same way Loki always finds him when he comes back from his random trips out of the city, which he forgets to inform Thor of on occasion.

“I am. I fear that by trying to help you, I may have slighted you.” Thor fiddles with something on the counter as he searches for his words carefully. “When I was able to, I took on work so that I could provide for myself and leave home. You knew that I had no more love for our family’s estate than you did. But then I…I finally saw that you were miserable. So much more miserable than I could imagine myself being. Thus, I worked harder, that we might escape them together. But being away from you so much merely increased your melancholy. I fear that there was too much damage done; that even when we were able to leave, you carried too much of that pain with you.” Thor sighs wearily, putting the salt shaker down with an unsteady hand. “For my failings, I apologize.”

Loki stares at him, incredulous. He shakes his head for a moment and mutters, “You selfless bastard.”

Thor looks to him with concern, unable to hear his quiet words. “Brother?”

Looking up, Loki says with all the sincerity he can manage. “I accept your apology. As long as you accept mine.” Thor smiles tentatively, and Loki returns the grin.  
Later that night, Loki enters his room silently. He finds Bruce asleep on his bed, a tablet on his rising and falling chest. He doesn’t try to hide the happiness on his face as he gently slips the glasses off of the doctor’s face. Bruce stirs as he feels the weight of the computer leave his chest. A small noise rumbles through his chest as Loki curls up next to him on top of the silky green duvet.  
“  
How’d your talk go?” Bruce asks, wrapping his arms around the skinnier man.

“Not as I expected,” Loki admits, leaning up to kiss Bruce. He lingers, working Bruce’s mouth open with sure, slow movements. It feels like a thank you, Bruce thinks. It’s probably as close to one as he’ll ever get from Loki. He thinks he can live with that.

——

Clint sits alone in a dark corner of a hole-in-the-wall bar on the other side of town, nursing his fifth beer and wondering how he ever got used to not doing this. For a long time it’d just been him, and whatever job he’d thrown himself into. Pushing papers at the patent office, transferring over to S.H.I.E.L.D. on Fury’s insistence, stalking Tony to determine if intervention was needed, infiltrating Stark Industries and worming his way closer to Tony and discovering he actually enjoyed the other man’s company. Then sending S.H.I.E.L.D. a big fuck you when he figured out that he was just going to be detailed to watch the genius even if Tony refused their help.

Sighing, he leans his head down in his arms. What even was his life, at this point? Half-running Stark Industries was starting to wear him down. He wasn’t wired for this shit. Maybe he should go rejoin the circus. Hit the road for a while. “Think I could pull off a leotard?” he asks to the nearly silent person who slips into the booth next to him.

“At your age? Not advisable,” Natasha answers without any bite in her voice. Clint hears her set two bottles on the table.

“What are you doing here, Natasha?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Banner said this was your favorite bar.” Clint chuckles darkly, still facedown on the table. “Keep that up and you’ll get cut off, Barton.” He sits up swiftly. And frowns.

“Did you invite the whole gang? Man, this was supposed to be my hideaway,” Clint grumbles as he watches Tony, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Loki walk through the door.

Natasha sips at her beer delicately. “I did not. Banner may have assumed I needed backup. Now stop being such a child and enjoy the fact that your friends are alive, well, and distinctly not blaming you for anything.”

Clint opens his mouth to argue, but is interrupted. “She’s right, Barton.” He whips around to see Phil Coulson leaning against the nearby wall, looking amused. “You weren’t on the clock; it’s really not your place to feel responsible for what happened.”

“Okay, the day that Coulson sneaks up on me and tries to cheer me up has to be the day I’ve hit rock bottom,” Clint says, shaking his head. “Yeah okay I’ll stop being a wet rag. Hey guys!” he calls out cheerfully.

Over the course of the night, Clint's favorite place to be alone becomes his favorite place to be with his friends.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another chapter that I never meant to write, but I always feel like the endings of my stories are weak so I gave in to the urge to tie the loose ends a little better. There's still an epilogue to come. And I have a couple of little one piece things from this universe still.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark at a Pride parade. Yes it is exactly as embarrassing as Rhodey knew it would be.

Grimacing, Loki scooches further out of the sunlight, pressing his back fully against the building behind him. Bruce chuckles and hands him a water bottle. Loki grabs it and chugs half of it down greedily. Bruce moves closer to him as a large group tries to squeeze by between them and the people crowded closer to the street. Loki glares at him without much venom in his eyes, before resignedly turning back to the parade passing them by.

“You are such a baby when it comes to being outside,” Bruce says teasingly.

“Oh I’ll gladly come out when the weather’s reasonable. I feel like I’m melting.”

“Reasonable to you is below freezing,” Bruce mumbles, waving as he spots the Queer/Straight Student Union from the university flounce past. The crowd cheers as Thor hauls Jane bodily upon his shoulders and she waves a huge rainbow flag with a bright smile on her face. Bruce gives Loki a sideways glance. Loki plasters a smile on his face and waves lazily at his brother. “It’s almost over. I haven’t seen Stark Industries come by yet-oh good grief, Tony.”

A huge double-decker bus comes around a corner, blaring club music and bedecked with rainbow flags bearing the SI logo. Loki cracks a grin as he hears people gasp and the shutters of a multitude of cameras click. “What a diva,” he says sardonically. Tony stands on the top of the bus, surrounded by people of various genders and states of undress. Tony wears little more than a neon pink tank top, tight black shorts, and thigh high boots that would make a dominatrix cry with envy. A muscled redhead wearing bright orange booty shorts and fishnet stockings hands him a bowl, from which Tony slings candy.

“Coulson will be having a seizure somewhere,” Natasha says coolly from Loki’s other side. It’s a credit to his self-control that he doesn’t jump from her sudden appearance. “Tony’s pretty terribly exposed to attack up there.”

“Hey Natasha,” Bruce says warmly when he notices her. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” she grins shortly. “Working my way up the ranks of course. Soon enough I’ll be going into the field. I can’t wait.” She glances around slyly. “Barton’s not here is he? I need to return something.”

They shake their heads. No one can keep track of Clint on a good day, especially since Tony found two new assistants and relieved him. She shrugs and watches as Tony’s bus rolls past them. “Attention everyone who has a heart!” he shouts into a megaphone. “In Loring Park there’s a table for Stark Industries selling these.” He holds up a small plush heart, printed with bright rainbow stripes. “Cute right? Well for every one of these hearts we sell, we’ll donate five dollars to the charity of your choice. LGBT homeless shelters, AIDS centers, Planned Parenthood, and my bar tab are all good options. Come by; get this cute useless thing, help people out. Stay beautiful everyone, have some candy! Remember your dentist has to pay rent too.” The crowd cheers wildly and scrabbles for the treats.

Bruce looks pleased. “We got Van Dyne’s company to help us produce those things. Tony was adamant about using them since they’re entirely based in the US.” 

Natasha huffs. “I’ll bet Steve was ecstatic about that. Where is he?”

“The shop. I’m to relieve him soon.” Loki pushes himself away from the wall and pulls dejectedly at his damp shirt. “I’m going there now. I really cannot abide this weather.”

“ABIDE THIS BITCH!” someone shouts before a loud splash sounds through the air. Loki looks down at the wet spot on his shirt and the remnants of a water balloon clinging to him. Whipping his head around, he sees Clint pulling himself back up into a nearby tree.

“BARTON,” Loki shrieks before running over and attempting to climb the trunk. Natasha is beside him in an instant, motioning for a boost. He gladly complies, cupping his hands together and heaving her up when she stands on them.

“Oh that is low, sending the girl in after me. OW-HEY NO-I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT-OUCH!”

——

“Danny, I really do not care.”

“But it ruins the aroma Luke. It’s a waste of good tea.”

Steve smiles and hands the blond another cup of tea, prepared correctly. Luke glares at the paper cup from where he stands pouring an espresso. “He’s right Luke. Don’t let the water get so hot next time.”

“Sorry Cap,” Luke grunts, pulling the tiny cup out from under the dispenser. Danny grins victoriously at him, earning him a glare. “I thought you would be above taking joy from being right about something.”

“Not when it comes to tea, my friend.” Danny sits back and enjoys the cup that Steve had handed him.

Steve pats his part-timer on the back reassuringly as he restocks the straws and napkins. Over the past few months the shop had gotten busier steadily, allowing Steve to hire the tired looking young man who came in one day to hide from the rain. Loki had been difficult to convince that he should come to work for Steve, but eventually the promise of free coffee enticed him to put the apron on. He was as fast a learner as Natasha, and his natural charm made him an instant costumer favorite. Steve also liked that he got to keep an eye on him, especially since Thor had been so much busier lately with Jane and his studies.

Steve tunes Danny and Luke’s good natured bickering out as he walks into the back to find another box of stirring sticks. He hears the bell ring as someone comes into the shop, but lingers in the back. He wonders how the parade’s going, if Tony remembered to put some sunblock on. He probably hadn’t, but Steve could dream couldn’t he? He’d ask Loki when he came in if Tony had seemed okay. He should be back soon-

“Hey Cap, you gotta see this,” Luke calls out.

Steve leans his head out into the kitchen, and chokes on sudden laughter. Loki and Clint are standing out on the sidewalk, arguing and sopping wet. Natasha stands inside, completely dry and holding a dripping bucket. “Hi Steve. Do you have some towels for a couple of sore losers?”

“Natasha what did you do?” Steve asks between guffaws.

She smiles sharply. “Barton started a water balloon fight. I finished it.” She tips the bucket into the trashcan, shaking out brightly colored rubber shrapnel. “And then Bruce made us clean up the debris. And I found a stockpile of extra balloons Barton had set up.”

The bell rings as Clint leans his head inside. “That was dirty, Romanoff. Taking my back-up ammo.”

“Hide it better next time,” she retorts. Steve’s still laughing as he goes to find the towels.

——

Tony grins as he walks out of the bus, changed into a cream colored button-up and light grey dress pants. Oh this is sure to piss off some of his investors, but they’ve been racking up so much from the preorders of the Stark Heart Replacer, they won’t even be able to say anything about it. Besides, it’s the best kind of publicity: the kind that involves Tony making a complete ass of himself and still helping people at the same time. He picks his way down the sidewalk, slipping his sunglasses on and pulling out his cell phone to answer some of Rhodey’s texts (You can’t seriously be a grown ass man wearing thigh highs Im disowning you.) He approaches the Stark tent, frowning at the lack of rainbow hearts on the table. He glares down at the interns, asking sternly, “What’s going on? Why aren’t you shoving those hearts at people?”

The one wearing glasses grins up at him. “We sold out dude-er, sir.”

“This one guy came by and bought a hundred of them. Literally, a hundred,” the shorter one explains, gesturing at the empty boxes behind her. “We thought we’d wait until you got back to see what we should do now.”

“Huh,” Tony says thoughtfully, working his mouth open and closed a few times. He’d had a thousand of those things made for the whole weekend, but only a few hundred put out for today. “Get on the horn with marketing. See if we have anything lying around. We’ll probably burn through this many again tomorrow.” They pull out their cell phones and start tapping away.

“Mr. Stark!” he hears from behind him. He turns around, publicity smile in place. A woman with short brown hair is coming straight for him, hobbling through the grass in her high heels. A skinny brunet teenager follows her, aiming a camera at various things around them. “Betty Brant, with the Daily Bugle.”

“Peter Parker,” the kid says with a wave. “Big fan of the remote communicating the replacements do. It’s really impressive, but I wonder could you have rewired the relays with copper alloys to-oh whoops, sorry Betty.”

He shrugs as the reporter glares at him. Tony makes a mental note to talk to the kid again. Copper alloys would improve the transmission distance problems, why hadn’t he thought of that? Betty aims a voice recorder at him. “For as long as Stark Industries has been around, it’s been surprisingly liberal for a weapon’s manufacturer.”

“Former. Former weapon’s manufacturer, I hope most people keep in mind,” Tony says guilelessly.

“Of course,” Betty purrs. The kid with the camera finally catches her up, snapping a few shots of the whole scene, Betty almost stabbing at Tony with the recorder, Tony accepting it with a wide smile and the tent behind them blaring the Stark name at their backs. “Even now there are those who wonder if the Stark family should be turning their creative minds to the world of medicine. What do you think about that supposition?”

“That it’s exactly what you called it. Supposition. The first product from our new line is being hailed by the scientific world as a leap in the right direction. If that’s not enough proof that I-that we’re doing right by this, then really I don’t know what else I can do,” Tony rattles off easily, his smile never faltering.  
Betty grins at him. “Is that why you’re here today? To try and show the city a different side of Tony Stark? One that can play along with the liberals while still being funded by the conservatives?”

Tony actually laughs at her. He recovers quickly, smirking at the camera right before it goes off again. He can see Steve lumbering lazily through the park behind the reporter. The sun turns his hair golden, his bright blue eyes smile tirelessly at Tony. “I uh, I’m here. Mostly because it’s a hell of a party, don’t you think? All these people, parading themselves, on display, despite what anyone would have to think or say about them? I’m envious of that. But, yeah it’s more personal than that. I’m here to support my siblings in arms.”

Betty’s eyes fly impossibly wide. The kid pauses in between pictures. “Tony Stark, are you admitting to what the tabloids have been accusing for years?”  
“No actually.” He waves for Steve to stay back, the movement unseen by the reporter or the photographer. “I’m technically pansexual, not bisexual or closeted like the rags like to say. But yes, this is me coming out. For the whole world to acknowledge. I am not straight, is what I’m saying.”

Steve hangs back, watching Tony smile bravely at the people questioning his motivations, his whole life. When he catches what Tony’s saying, he understands why Tony waved him back. He’s protecting Steve, keeping him out of the public eye. It’s a warm thought, Tony trying to keep Steve out of the spotlight. But Steve’s not stupid. He knows that if they keep going, eventually the truth will come out.

The memory of Tony’s excitement this morning, when he’d been getting ready and so thrilled for what he’d hoped would be a great day and a good fundraiser for groups that do a lot of good in the city, spurs Steve to walk forward. Tony watches him through those damn sunglasses, the ones that make reading Tony’s expressions so much harder, but Steve knows that the genius is nervous.

“Hey Tony,” he says casually, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Steve’s vaguely aware of the reporter hissing, “Peter, are you getting this?!” as he plants a quick kiss on Tony’s temple. His concentration is fixed better on how Tony reaches an arm around to squeeze Steve in closer, and how he quietly whispers his thanks in low tones meant for no one else but the person he loves. Steve rarely hears that tone, but when he does, the most surreal sense of content rips through him. He treasures this moment, letting it strengthen him as he turns to the glaring eye of the camera. He can do this, he thinks, as long as Tony is willing to stand beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOSH THANK YOU ALL FOR READING. This thing ate my brain for a long freaking time, and when I finally wrote it it sort of opened the floodgates and now this fandom is my life. I regret nothing.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks. I didn't expect so much love, so really, thank you!
> 
> So next I'm either going to put up my smutty smut genderswap Tony/Steve fic, or just a few short things. If you have an opinion, or request or anything at all, hit me up!

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first major foray into the Avengers fandom, and the first long fic I'd written in years. Basically all my favorite Avengers/SHIELD Agents will be showing up at some point. Thanks for reading!


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